The Technicolor Rebellion
by DaGeekGoddesses
Summary: Following the death of her twin, Cyanide Siren is out for revenge against BL/ind - even if it could mean her own life.
1. Chapter 1: Sing It Out

**A/N: Hello, FFnet. Sunshine here, posting DaGeekGoddesses very first fanfiction! Yay. So, I invite all of you to come read it, review, and whatever else. Please, no absolute criticism, along the lines of you-suck-and-so-does-your-writing, but constructive criticism is very much appreciated. Before you read, I will warn that this story will have language, violence, and other... suggestive themes. I'm just giving the K+ rating because this story also isn't exactly M rated. I just don't know how to rate it, honestly. So, enjoy, lovely people. Killjoys, make some noise!**

My eyes open at the sound of the first shot.  
Immediately, I'm on my feet, grabbing a turquoise gun from a holster at my hip, running, twisting around to face the abominations on the other sides of the guns.  
Damn Dracs.  
I'm firing as quickly and accurately as I can, seeing the target and hitting, and onto the next. But they keep coming.  
Well? Bring it on.  
I dive farther into the fray, and my limbs get into it, too, hitting the white clad soldiers in the chest, kicking them down relentlessly. I could do more - lots more - to them, but that would give me away, along with everyone else.  
A slim, petite figure steps in to fight with me. She has dark hair with purple highlights, medium short, pulled into high, anime-ish pigtails. She has a tight shirt, a fluffy black miniskirt, fishnets, and boots on. She kicks every oncoming Drac square in the chest, hits, or does whatever, before shooting it dead. The perfect combination of martial arts and pure adrenaline fighting.  
Now, more of us are fighting the masked enemies. A boy with neon green hair and a patched jacket. A young man with a colorful mask that glows in the dark. A young girl with strap on rainbow wings.  
"Angel! Behind you!" I scream, before turning around to shoot a Drac straight in the face. When I turn back to the little girl, she's killed the soldier behind her, but she's getting surrounded. I dash to her, put my back against hers, and start fighting for her blind side.  
"We're losing - they keep on coming!" she yells at me.  
"We'll make it!"  
"Not without kicking it up a notch!"  
Dread creeps into my heart. I realize that she's right. We're outnumbered at almost seven to one. This is stupid.  
But kicking it up is suicide. It will immediately notify all the locality's Exterminators that there are Freaks in the area. And that would be the end of us.  
We're all close to each other now. I turn and yell, "We're gonna have to kick it up!"  
Someone else screams. "No! We can't!"  
At this point, we are outnumbered eight to one.  
"We will die," I hiss.  
And then, four Dracs freeze. They are shot down immediately.  
I switch my gun to my right hand and outstretch my left to the ground.  
It explodes around us, knocking thirty down.  
I hasten to raise a hand to the sky, which has been overcast since last night. A few flashes commence, before lightning suddenly starts pelting the ground. Dracs are zapped back and forth. The whole time, I'm laughing like crazy.  
I know I'm losing control. But just a little more.  
As I let my power seep away, the last of them, now writhing messes, bring guns to their heads and put themselves out of their misery.  
And we don't hasten to run into the van to drive off into the night.  
The second youngest of our group, a boy with hazel-brown eyes no older than seven, looks up. "Dracs?"  
"Fifty of them, at least," I mutter, "We barely made it out alive.  
A mild cry of a baby queues. The girl in the pigtails takes the baby from the lap of the seven year old, holds it close to her, and sings softly.  
Soon, she - the baby - is asleep.  
We are the Killjoys. Welcome to our nightmare.

I wake up with a bad taste in my mouth.  
I prop myself up in the van, and look around to see what's going on with everyone else.  
My eyes first lay on Skeleton Leopard, the oldest of us hooligans. He's passed out in the drivers seat. His dirty blonde hair falls in strands to his shoulders. His trademark spotted mask is pulled up onto his forehead. A black jacket with patches of leopard print dotted everywhere is draped over him like a blanket. He groans, and mumbles something like 'sheep, pie, shepherds pie' in his subconscious. Maybe his dream involves eating.  
Next - Neon Heartthrob. He might not be much of a heartthrob, but he certainly is neon - his fluorescent green hair is like a Draculoid beacon. The scar on his cheekbone is more apparent in the early, pre-sunrise light. He sighs, and turns to his side.  
The Paintball Sensei is after that, in the back. Her pigtails are loosened from their hold, the purple highlights brighter than anything on her petite body. Unlike the rest of us, Sensei is Japanese. I think that also makes her prettier than us. She's curled her body around Burned Paradise, the baby in her arms. Paradise is hers. It was a shock when we found out she was pregnant - she was sixteen at the time - but it's been a godsend. Paradise is in black and red, garments Sensei and I stitched from old clothes.  
Next to her is Crimson. He used to be the youngest of us, until Paradise came, at seven years old. He's the bravest kid I know. His light brown hair sticks up in odd spikes, his eyelashes flit with his eyes darting under their lids. An oversized aviators jacket sits on him, and a cherry red helmet rests in his lap.  
My little sister, Arsenic Angel, has her head on my shoulder. Angel's ten, but has the brain and shot of a thirteen year old. Her dark brown hair is pulled into messy Thumbelina buns, which have finally started to come apart after two weeks. A smiley face tank top and striped tights are certainly a highlight of her outfit, but the thing that gave her the name is a pair of rainbow angel wings, found in an old costume shop. We haven't met many more Killjoys - a good deal of them have died already - but they always commented on her wings.  
She stirs, twists, and looks up. "Hey."  
I smile at her. "Hey."  
"We gotta leave the area now. Freak alert."  
"It's a miracle we've stayed here for this long."  
"True," she whispers. "We're gonna have to leave. We're gonna have to leave-"  
"Elliot's grave."  
Angel and I have referred to him as Elliot since he died. Everyone else still calls him his Killjoy name - Hydrogen Hellhound. But we have rights. We were the closest ones to him.  
"Cyanide? Are you still listening to me?"  
I look down. "What?"  
"Nevermind."  
I guess this gives me permission to introduce myself.  
I am Cyanide Siren, age 17. Older sister of Angel, twin of Elliot. Or Hellhound, if you prefer that. My signature clothes are a 'keep calm & blast music' t-shirt and XXL-Hi Converse that are now covered in Sharpie ink pop art.  
And, like everyone else in the van - I'm a Freak.  
Leopard can see what other people are doing thousands of miles away. It's a great skill - he knows which Exterminators are after us. He just closes his eyes, and BAM! Suddenly, he sees BLI's headquarters, or the nearest Drac camp.  
Neon can freeze people. He turns them to stone. It's scary when he does it. It's like you've walked into a forest of sculptures, but their still living, breathing.  
The Sensei is extremely smart - and her IQ of about 190 doesn't end there. She can take what you know. I'm not kidding. She looks into your mind, finds what you know, and then has it as well. Doing that, she's become fluent in thirty languages, a doctor, and another sputter of random facts - as if I wasn't enough.  
Crimson hasn't had his powers for long, nor does anyone know the extent of them, but we think it has to do with telepathy. He reads minds - everyone's. And he sends people messages through dreams. He's sent me dancing skeletons in my dreams. Now that was scary.  
Angel has the coolest powers yet. She travels time. I'm not kidding. Travels time. And space, for that matter. She'll disappear occasionally, and then come back, telling us that she just visited the Eiffel Tower in 2001, or saw President Lincoln when he was a boy. But we do have a rule for her, just one:  
No re-watching Mom's, Dad's, or Elliot's deaths.  
It's a good thing that no one can see her when she travels. Otherwise, she'd bring everyone back from the dead.  
And finally, my power:  
I'm telekinetic.  
I create stuff, move stuff, and screw with the elements. I've had my powers for the longest of anyone, so mine encompass the most. When I first got them, I only could move stuff. But also, it's the most dangerous power. I can lose control. Quickly. I do practice, and I have gained control of them to an extent, but they do still get out of hand. One mistake, and voila! Someone I love is dead.  
And that's part of what killed Elliot.  
Paradise stirs, and starts moaning, causing her mother to wake up.  
"What is it, darling?" Sensei asks, turning to look at her daughter.  
Leopard groans. "I swear, Sensei, if Paradise wasn't your baby..."  
"Shut up."  
Soon, everyone's awake.  
"We gotta go," Neon says, immediately.  
"I think we know that, dumbass," I mutter darkly.  
"Watch the mouth, Siren! Crimson's here."  
"Yeah, Siren, I'm here."  
I look back at the seven year old, and chuckle, ruffling his hair. "You're used to my mouth."  
"Yeah," Sensei spits, "But that doesn't mean my child is used to it."  
"Maternal, are we?"  
Sensei gives me a dirty glare. I smile and blow a kiss.  
Leopard starts the car. "Come on, we gotta get out of here."  
"Angel and I have to see Hellhound's grave first."  
It slips out before I have time to stop it.  
"Al... Alright," Leopard stammers, "But we can't stay for long."

Angel and I walk out of the van first.  
From the pocket of my cutoffs, I bring out a flower bulb, ad kneel at the side of a grave.  
One where the epitaph reads, "Only the good die young and brutal."  
I plant the bulb in front of the tombstone, before turning to the stone.  
"Hey, Elliot," I say, "It's me. Naomi Britain. Your twin. I'm with Sia. And we have to leave now. We got really ambushed by Dracs. We got exposed. So we're going. We dunno where. Just away. And..." I feel a tear slip away from my eye, "I love you, Elliot. I still do, even now. I'm not going to forget you."  
I turn back to the van so no one else will see my tears.  
I look at my reflection through the window of the van - long, ratty chestnut hair with blue tips, held back by a turquoise bandanna tied at my forehead. Tanned, dirty face, peeling in areas. Bright green eyes that stare out at the world.  
I guess I look kind of odd.  
I listen in on Sensei.  
"Hey, Hellhound. Um... I guess everyone briefed you on the circumstance. So, I guess this is goodbye. You were a great guy, and I'm sorry you never got to meet Paradise. You're the only one who didn't. I'll tell her about you. I'll give her my memories of you. It won't be the same, but it's the best we can do. You were a great friend, Hellhound, but now... I have to say goodbye."  
And soon, we're driving away forever.

Sit down, reader, and let me tell you the tragic tale of this boy.  
Elliot Britain was born on April 16 of 2002 to Quinn and Diane Britain, one of a set of twins. His twin? Naomi Britain. The polar opposite.  
Elliot and Naomi were inseparable since birth. They were best friends. They went everywhere together. When both were six, they wanted to play both piano and guitar. They learned them together, with dreams to change the world with their music.  
When they were seven, their sister, Anastasia Britain, was born. They both started calling her Sia, immediately.  
And when they were ten, disaster struck.  
First, drastic fires came. They raged across the Front Range of Colorado, spanning into the mountains and the vast plains.  
The three Britain children were shoved into a basement. The last they heard of their parents was:  
"We love you all to death. Naomi? Elliot? Take care of your sister."  
Their parents died in the Fires.  
If only the Monsoons came a few days early.  
The Monsoons were rains that lasted for weeks. It calmed the Fires, yes, but it flooded everything. Dried rivers were filled to the brim, cutting across a bare environment.  
And in the first five minutes that it stopped raining, the Britain twins thought it was safe to come out.  
And then came the Acid Rains.  
Leftover radiation from various power plants wrecking and a few bombs going off mingled with the atmosphere, causing the clouds to become laced with radiation.  
And as soon as the three came out, it started raining.  
The Britain children went back in as quick as they could, but the damage had been done by then. All three had severe burns on them. And though they healed weird things started happening to them, starting with the worst of the children:  
Me.  
Yes, I, Naomi Britain.  
It started with things breaking, flying off shelves, shifting when I got angry. We thought it was a ghost, at first, being that juvenile. But then we realized that it was more than that. Far more.  
Then, Sia would disappear and reappear at random times. It scared us every time, but she would always reappear from time to time.  
Finally, when we escaped from the shelter, we lied low for a couple days. Then, we were attacked by our first Dracs.  
We were shot at, attacked. I got a few shots to the shoulder, and Sia was almost killed.  
And Elliot just stood in their presence, and looked at them. No shots made it past three feet in front of him. I joined him, summoned all I had, and ripped soil from the earth, pelting the monsters with rocks, until they bled.  
He had turned to me. "You're hurt," he said, and placed a finger on my wounded shoulder.  
Elliot was a shield. He could protect and heal.  
We fought like that for a few days, Elliot defending, me attacking, until Skeleton Leopard - then, Brent - had found us. He was sixteen at the time, and the oldest person we knew to have survived. He took the three of us in, and told us everything. It had been seven months since the Fires, three since the Acid Rains. Everyone, almost, had died. That, or missing. Brent had already passed his drivers test before the Disasters, so he had been living in an old warehouse with a van, raiding various old gas pumps and abandoned cars for gas. He had stocked up enough for about ten years by then.  
He took us back to his warehouse, and let us stay there, with him. He offered us sleeping bags, a fire, food.  
He became an older brother to us in a night.  
We stayed with him. Days, weeks, months passed by. He showed us the van. It was huge and awesome. Well, except one thing: The color. It was a dull silver, the paint chipping freely. It was a sorry thing.  
Elliot and I turned eleven. Sia turned four. Time passed.  
That was when Jamie showed up.  
A boy with strawberry blonde hair and fractured blue eyes appeared under the van, using it as shelter. Clothes torn, feral looking, he told us his story.  
Jamie was twelve, and had been, luckily, in a family fire shelter with his parents and sixteen year old sister when the Fires hit. They had stayed there for a few weeks, and tried to make it out during the Monsoons.  
How wrong they were to think they could make it out.  
His father was dragged under a stream trying to find food. His mother and sister were killed during the Acid Rains. He had just made it out, but, like the rest of us, not without a price: Jamie was able to freeze people. He had left living statues in his wake.  
We soon had another brother.  
Just as we were getting comfortable in our warehouse, a new danger came.  
Better Living Industries. BL/ind, if you will. They were in whatever was left in California, and had an iron grip on whoever was there. An ideology for a utopian society: everyone's perfect. All are equal. No one was better than another. Brent had said that they had really studied up on their theory of communism. Whatever that meant.  
Soon, we learnt of their malicious nature. They force-fed their citizens pills to make them obey commands from the government. So they wouldn't question whatever BLI was doing without their consent.  
First came passing under their radar, so to not get detected, forced into their monstrous system. Then came the Dracs.  
Draculoid: noun. 1. Servant of large, power hungry corporation known as BL/ind. 2. Soldier to Exterminator (see separate definition), known for dressing in white and donning vampiric full head masks so to protect identity. Commonly shortened to Drac for the convenience of rebels against BLI (see Killjoy)  
Hope that helped.  
They were meant for killing snot nosed brats like us. Kids who would otherwise go nowhere.  
Within the month that we learned of BLI's presence, we discovered the work of Clockwork Thief, and her way of allying rebels:  
109.  
An underground movement of DJs had formed through the whole of North America, where BL/ind had taken over, and formed various stations in certain areas, all on one channel: 109. Thief had explained what was happening: a rebellion against BLI on a huge scale, directed by the maybe thirty DJs that had banded together. They were forming the Killjoys: dirt dwelling, technicolor wearing gunslingers meant to take down the people denying us our humanity. Color was dangerous to them. We'd be their bane.  
The romance, the nostalgia, the honor of the whole concept was much too tantalizing. I was sold at the first sentence.  
Immediately, we were searching for anything to wear that could make us stand out, become alarms to the world. We found neon green paint in the warehouse, and painted the car. That was a start.  
But we needed clothes.  
That was how we met Akira.  
She had been dwelling in an abandoned mall at the time, and new nothing of the Killjoys, 109, or Better Living. All she knew was that her parents had died in the Monsoons, and she was surviving.  
She was thirteen, four days younger than Jamie, Japanese American, and joined us in an instant.  
We stayed in the mall for a few days, and got lost. We found shirts, jackets, pants, boots, anything, in any form obnoxious, and took it. We found an old hair salon, and took it over. By the time we were done, I had side bangs, done choppily and edgy. I had blue tips, Akira purple highlights, and Jamie had gone so odd as to dye his hair neon green, and the eyebrows.  
We were crazy.  
On the last day, tuning into Thief playing her loud party punk on 109, we discovered a costume shop.  
And that was where Sia found her signature piece.  
An angel was granted her wings.  
And as I pulled on those Converse boots with whatever on them, I became Cyanide Siren.  
When we got into a fight with Dracs a few days later, we attained our necessities: ray guns and transmitters.  
And we were set.  
We lived like that for almost three years.  
Then, we met Alakazam, Black Dahlia, and their three year old son:  
Crimson.  
Since the young family had just escaped from the clutches of BLI, we let them lie low with us for a while. They were the sweetest people. They were from Utah, but were visiting family in Colorado, since their son had just been born, when the Fires hit, and stayed in a hospital with how many other people. They had been caught in the Acid Rains, too. They weren't sure if Crimson was a Freak, but they definitely were. Alakazam could control people with their shadows. Dahlia could soak nutrients from her surroundings. For the time they were with us, they were mentors. They taught us to control our powers. They taught us to survive.  
Then, everything went downhill.  
Alakazam and Dahlia had gone out for supplies, and never came back, not after a few days.  
And then, on 109:  
"And now, Motorbabies, I would like a moment of silence for the lovely two that gave their lives for our cause. Come now, Killjoys, stop your Drac killin' and pause."  
Her smooth voice and almost effortless rhymes caught me. I looked up to the rainbow boombox that was quietly broadcasting Clockwork Thief's voice.  
"The lovely couple went by Alakazam and Black Dahlia."  
The room froze.  
"Their names were Adam and Kira Stonemason. They were 28 and 26, from Utah, and stayed in my Zones when the Fires swift in and set us all in the inferno. They survive in their son, Crimson."  
The toffee eyes of the boy shimmered with tears. "Wha?"  
"If we're gonna live this long, we gotta be be stupid and strong. The music is all I offer in being your leader and doctor. Thief, out, with 'The Funeral', by an old indie band called... Band of Horses. For Adam and Kira. Killjoys, make some noise!"  
As plucked, broken chords played through the radio, shock pulsed through the room.  
"My parents..." Crimson mumbled.  
"Crimson, I'm sorry..." I put a hand on his shoulder.  
He buried his face in my chest and started crying.  
"My name," he murmured, "Is Alex."  
Our family complete, we lived in a suspended existence for a year, getting over the turbulent adding of our youngest.  
Then, we decided that if any other Killjoys passed by us like that again, we wouldn't get attached to them.  
In that next year, we met the DJ of the Mountains herself.  
Clockwork Thief herself appeared in our warehouse and asked to stay for no longer than two weeks. We had to. She was our idol.  
One night, she heard Hellhound and I playing guitar and singing in the warehouse.  
And right then, she decided to take out her recording equipment, and record all sixty something of our songs right then and there.  
So, using two guitars, a near broken amp plugged into a dying outlet, a few various boards hit with hands as drums, and a piano recovered a year ago, along with Thief's microphone, all our songs were recorded, and poorly mixed off an old laptop of the Pirate DJ's, and, at the end of our leaders stay with us, broadcast on 109 as songs by the new Killjoy band, 'Poisonous as Hell.'  
We thought it was a good play on both our names.  
Then, she left, to touch more of us with her presence - calm down, Crash Queens, this chapter isn't over yet.  
After that, life became somewhat weirder, and not just by hearing Hellhound's and my singing voices on 109.  
Neon Heartthrob and The Paintball Sensei together: I guess we all saw that coming. They were adorable together. They were practically attached to each other.  
But amongst the sudden peace in out lives, there were more warnings of BLI's presence. Like when they distinguished Freaks at the same danger level as DJs. Oh, well. We were screwed from the beginning.  
About ten months later, Sensei got sick. Really sick. She couldn't eat anything, because she'd puke it back up.  
When it was my turn to take care of her, she pulled me into a hug.  
"Are you gonna be okay?" I asked her.  
She smiled. "Don't worry about it. I figured out what's wrong."  
I stared at her with wide eyes. "What is it?"  
She grinned, a hand traveling to her midsection.  
"Naomi. I'm pregnant."  
I stared, letting it sink in.  
"My parents would've killed me. "Akira, you've tainted the family name,' my mother would say. But don't hate me, please, Siren. I love him. Jamie. And I love our baby."  
"Does he know?"  
"No, but I think he's guessed. You're the only one who knows. But I'm gonna announce it tomorrow."  
"Akira, you're sixteen."  
"I know."  
"You've basically cut your life out. You will be running from Dracs the rest of your life, protecting this kid. What if you die?"  
She smiled. "I won't worry. I'll have all of you."  
The next day, she announced it to the rest of everyone. The news was greeted by hugs and kisses, a few 'congratulations', and some confused looks from Crimson.  
Despite the announcement being the best thing to happen in a few months, it meant that we had to lay lower than usual, to protect Sensei and the baby. We had to be careful.  
And just our luck: some punk, druggie idiots caused a Drac sweep.  
All of us were out getting supplies. Sensei must have been six months by then: she was near immobile, but we had to take her for the risk of this happening.  
We were raiding an old BLI truck stop that had been long abandoned for gun and transmitter batteries, food, and gas for the van. Just as Leopard, Hellhound, and I had finished hacking the battery dispenser...  
_Shwoom!_  
_Screech!_  
We turned to find four gleaming Drac cars staring back at us.  
We didn't stop - immediately, we were running at top speed to the van, drawing guns and shooting at the soldiers. All we saw were targets: head then chest. Stomach. Dodge.  
We could have been invincible.  
Neon and Angel ran out of the building, both with backpacks full of food, drawn guns, and determined looks.  
We all dove into the van.  
"Go, Siren!" my twin yelled.  
I jumped in. Hellhound followed, shutting the door. The van sped off, Leopard flooring it.  
The Drac cars followed us in a frenzy. I big my lip.  
"Siren, you have to fend them off."  
"What do I do?"  
"I dunno! Just something!"  
"They're gonna know we're Freaks!"  
"Freaks, or dead?"  
I sucked in air, leaned behind me to see the rear of the car, and held out a hand.  
The asphalt of the road crumbled and exploded at the Drac cars.  
"Brent, slow down!" Hellhound screamed at the driver.  
"Why?" he asked, but did it anyway.  
My dear brother opened the van door, used one hand to hold onto the car, and the other to shoot Dracs.  
_Boom!_ The first car swerved into the other, causing an inferno and certain death for those inside. The next car tried to get off the road, but I held out a hand, and dirt rifted underneath it.  
One last car.  
We looked at each other.  
"Good Luck."  
"You too, bro."  
The last car managed to get on the road, too close for me to break the asphalt without hurting us as well. I hung out of the door with my brother, looking for a good shot at the car. I started with the tires, attacking them freely.  
A loud bang, heat bubbling into my face, and a scream next to me.  
I pulled my brother and I into the van again. Crimson pushed the door back as Leopard sped up.  
"Naomi, are you..."  
"Yeah, I'm fine, are you..."  
The words died in my throat at he smiled at me so sadly.  
"I'm sorry, Naomi."  
His dark blue shirt was soaked through with blood.  
His blood.  
He lay down against me. I pulled his head into my lap.  
"Isn't it ironic? I can heal others, just not myself."  
"Asshole," I cursed under my breath, but smiled.  
"Naomi."  
"Yeah, Elliot?"  
"Nay, you have to promise me that you'll survive. You will live to see BLI fall to their death."  
"Ell-"  
"And keep Poisonous as Hell going."  
"I..." I let a tear fall onto his face. "I promise."  
"Naomi Britain, you are going to live. I know it. You're going to meet some amazing people. You're going to find a great guy - or girl, but most likely a guy - and you're gonna be happy."  
He turned to our sister as the van stopped.  
"Sia, you truly are an angel. You are a prodigy. You are a phenomenal girl. You will move mountains, God knows we need to."  
"Brent. You were like the cool older brother to me. You looked out for me, you made fun of me, you taught me everything I know today. Dude, you're cool. Go spread it to others."  
"Jamie. The first time I saw you, I thought you were a freak. Not in our power sense, but just scary. But you're my best friend. And death isn't going to change that."  
"Akira. I thought I didn't need any more sisters, but you ended up one anyways. But you're the responsible one, the anchor. With young and ambitious in the rainbow, and crazy and fearless above me, I needed a sibling like that. And, I'm sorry I never could meet your baby, but make sure it knows who I was." he reached a hand out to pat her bloated abdomen. "Hey, there. Your uncle Elliot loves ya."  
"Alex. This isn't the end. I'm always going to be there for you. Every step of the way. Your parents were great people. You're gonna be at that same level."  
He turned back to Sia and I. "Sia. I don't care where you go when you travel. Just do yourself a favor and never review this. Got that?"  
"Yeah."  
"Naomi."  
He smiled sadly at me.  
"Change the world, and know that death isn't gonna get the best of me. My spirit. I... I love you all."  
And his emerald eyes shut one last time.  
Elliot Britain died in July of 2018. He was sixteen.  
I called Clockwork Thief that night via transmitter.  
"Cyanide! Got enough songs yet? How's your brother?"  
Silence.  
"Oh, God, no."  
"Today. We just buried him."  
"You want me to..."  
"Ready?"  
"Yeah."  
"Elliot Britain. Sixteen. From Denver. He was one half of Poisonous as Hell."  
"And what song?"  
I don't even doubt it.  
"Death Will Never Conquer. Coldplay. Do you have it?"  
"Yeah."  
As it played that night, I died inside.  
_If sweet death should ever conquer me, I'll be down where the water flows... I hope sweet heaven has a place for me, let me know, boys, let me know..._Sensei's baby was born three months later.  
They named her Eden. Eden Elliot, not caring about the gender of the second name.  
But now we had to leave.

**A/N: So, whaddidya think? Awesome? Terrible? As earlier stated, constructive criticism is welcome and perhaps needed. Mille Grazie (a million thanks), despite not being Italian!**

**~Sunshine**


	2. Chapter 2: Run, Bunny, Run

**Hello, peeps! So, Sunshine here, with another chapter of this story that no one seems to pay attention to. So... A little favor... Read? Review? Please? Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: Those who exist in this story are not owned by me; I only own my OC's, and they are owned by their wives. ;)**

I step nervously out of the van, careful of where my feet fall. Leopard left some soldering materials out, and...  
I don't think anyone wants to step on that.  
I pad across the warehouse, and turn around to look at everyone. I lock eyes with Leopard.  
"Where are we gonna go?"  
"West. Towards Cali." A collection of gasps. "You guys, it makes sense. If we go far out enough, they don't have records of us being Freaks-"  
"But Cali? Dude, it's suicide! We'd be right there! Right in BL/ind's faces-"  
"Aren't we already? Guys, if we don't act now, we're screwed. Plain and simple. I don't think anyone wants to be in that case. We all know what happened nine months ago."  
The silence sparks through the air like lightning.  
"But where would we go?"  
"Out of Droughthaven. Out of whatever is left of Denver. I dunno, maybe to New Colombia-"  
"Battery City."  
It's the first thing Neon says.  
"Battery City?"  
"The Zones outside of it. People! Think! It's probably safer than here, no one will detect us, and -" he pauses for dramatic effect, the idiot- "It's where Dr. Death Defying is."  
We all know that, it's common Killjoy knowledge, but the idea is tantalizing, I will admit.  
"We will meet the founder of the very movement we stand for! We pass under the radar-"  
"For how long?" Sensei asks as she readjusts her arms to hold Paradise better, "Neon, we'll be even closer to BLI's headquarters. In my opinion, it's more dangerous. I already lost a brother, Neon. We all did. I'm not going to lose my daughter as well."  
The tension pulls between all of us-  
"I think it's a great idea."  
I turn to Angel. "Wha?"  
"You guys, I'm not saying we need to fight, but don't you want to just be over with this? I hardly had a normal life. Crimson's been running like this since day one! Don't you guys ever miss a day where there wasn't a gun at your side, a knife strapped to your arm, or a few grenades in your pocket? Don't you just wish for a world without BL/ind?"  
"Angel-"  
"Siren." Angel turns to me, Thumbelina buns falling down her head, jade green eyes sparkling. "Do you remember what Hellhound said to you before he died? You will live to see BLI fall to their death. Are you? Because if you don't, you will be running like this forever, until you can't. We all will. Can you live with this romanticized world for eternity, Siren? Because I can't. One day, you're gonna have to face the cold truth: this life sucks."  
She looks at all of us, individually, before sticking a hand in the middle of us. "I'm in it for Elliot. How about the rest of you?"  
Surprisingly, it's Crimson who puts hid hand in first.  
"For Elliot."  
Angel looks up. "Leopard? Neon? Sensei? How 'bout you?"  
Leopard's hand goes in. "For Elliot."  
Neon's shoots in. "Hell, it's for Elliot."  
Sensei hesitates, before gingerly setting her hand in the circle, on top of Neon's. "For Elliot."  
Paradise reaches a chubby hand out to grasp her mothers, as if agreeing.  
I meet everyone's eyes, squeeze tears out of my own, and thrust my hand into the circle. "For... For Elliot."  
And we set out through the warehouse with a new purpose in life.

I press the guitar cases into the seats when Leopard looks over my shoulder.  
"Guitars?"  
"And the amp. I can't take the piano, so this is what I'm gonna do."  
"Yeah, but they take up so much space. Couldn't you just bring one guitar?"  
"No."  
"Whatever, Siren."  
I spin around to face him. "Look, man, I am not gonna leave the guitars here. They were Elliot's. They're MINE. So if you're trying to convince me otherwise, it ain't happenin'," I finish in a southern drawl.  
"Fine, woman. God." he back off and goes to get a few metallic containers of gas to put in the back.  
"That stuff can't get on my amp," I yell.  
"Shut up."  
I stalk off to go pack what few belongings I have.  
As I finish packing my spare clothes, hair dye, notebooks, and such - all of which fits in a small backpack - I hear a growl of frustration. I walk to the sound of the noise.  
Sensei is attempting to pack her bag with Paradise in one arm.  
"Here," I say, relieving the child from her arms. Paradise lets loose a chubby, tan arm at my face. "Hey!"  
Sensei laughs, and pats the girl on her back. "Eden Elliot Tompkins, stop trying to gouge out your aunt's eyes."  
I raise an eyebrow. "Aunt?"  
"Well, you are my little sister, right?" She grins, before turning to her bag, stuffing clothes of both hers and Paradise's, her own set of bleach and dye, and various other things, before zipping it. She shoulders the backpack, before taking Paradise back from me. "Thanks."  
"No prob." We head back out to the van. "So, this is it. One last sweep for memory?"  
"No. I don't want this place branded in my brain. Too many memories, you know?"  
She shrugs. "Yeah, I guess you're right."  
We squish ourselves into the van. As I slide my backpack off me, Paradise starts crying.  
"Oh, she's tired," Sensei looks at me. "Um... Could you...?"  
I take the infant from her arms, and hold her to me. I relax my voice box and open my mouth. The lyrics of some old lullaby from my childhood spill out of my mouth. Paradise's eyes slowly start closing more and more, until the baby is finally asleep. I hand her back to Sensei.  
"Happy?"  
"Yeah. Thanks."  
"So, about Paradise... When will she be able to hold a gun?"  
The Japanese girl shoots me a vicious glare. "She has to be four or five, at least."  
"And she's six months?"  
"Very good, smartass."  
"Shut up." I look out the window. "So, where's everyone else-"  
The trunk opens, and the wayback seats are folded down as Neon and Leopard push more gas tanks into the back. "Hey, Angel? Crimson? You guys are gonna have to scoot in with the ladies."  
"Gottit!" Angel says as she slides next to Sensei. She brushes a few spikes of dark hair out of Paradise's face. "Hey, there." She turns to look up at both of us. "Well, if we're gonna be this close till Battery City, might as well get to know each other." She sticks out a hand to shake. "Hi. I'm Arsenic Angel. What's your's?"  
I swat her hand away. "Enough. I'm the only one allowed to be that sarcastic."  
Crimson sits directly next to Angel, and struggles to shut the door, before getting comfortable.  
As Leopard moves into the driver's seat and starts the ignition, Neon slams the passenger door shut. He turns to Sensei with a worried crease in his forehead. "Hey, Sensei, do you want me to hold Paradise? You need sleep."  
Sensei, finally giving into tire, nods, leans forward, and hands the baby to Neon, before leaning back, the against me, before closing her dark eyes and letting sleep take her.  
Despite being up since the Dracs attacked us this morning at... What, One? One thirty? Two? Either way, I'm not sleeping. Not now.  
There's much more interesting things out there right now.

The girl looks out from the grimy window.  
She notices what's on the old glass. Dirt, dust, and sand, collected from the surrounding desert. Fingerprints from those longing an exterior world without withering temperatures, from those reaching out, hoping that the mundane action might just give them their wishes.

She pulls her red-and-yellow ribbed jacket around her tighter, hugging her knees to her chest. A lock of curly, pale brown hair brushes against her cheek as she turns to look up at the Moon, hoping, hoping, _hoping_ that a specific someone in the City might hear her calling out. _Please, make it out. You're an experiment. A dignified one, yes, but still an experiment. God, make it out. Find me._

Suddenly, she starts shaking. Her skin turns to goosebumps. Her body starts convulsing, as if her nerves are being pulled apart, taken from her in the most violent way possible. Her blue-green eyes are shut by tan lids, and as the back of her head hits the seat behind her, a man enters the room.

"Oh, shit, she's seeing stuff again!" He yells, rushing to bring the girl out of the old booth, situate her in a better place, support her head. He brushes a hand through shoulder length, black hair, biting his lip. He turns with a desperate mask as another walks into the room with equal nerves, only hidden by age-old Ray Bans.

"Is she okay?"

"More visions," the dark haired one mutters.

The other takes his sunglasses off, folds them, and lets them hang by one wire from his dirtied, tiger-print shirt. "The way she's going, she's going to ruin herself."

"What can she do?"

The girl stops shaking. Her eyes open, the green in them glowing a little bit, iridescent. She stares like that, motionless, stiff as a board, for a few seconds, before sighing, shutting her eyes, and slumping into the dark haired man.

"Missile?" The man asks.

She stirs, sits herself up, and looks at the man confusedly. "...Ghoul?"

"Yeah?"

She hugs him briefly from being seated. "Thanks for finding me." She looks up at the other man. "Kobra. What happened to me?"

"You were seeing stuff again."

She rolls her eyes. "I'm the one with the ability, idiot. But how did I get it?"

"...Another time, Missile Kid.'

She nods.

"You guys both need to hear this. Jet, Party, Dr. D, and Pony all need to hear it as well, in the morning."

"Shoot."

"'Kay." She clears her throat. "I saw... A van. Bright green. Driving straight towards the Diner. And Drac Cars were following it. And... The ground exploded behind the van, and the cars were wiped out. That was it."

"Were they mines?"

"No. The ground just..." She connected her fingers together, in an epicenter, and then spread her fingers as she moved them outwards, signifying an explosion. "Boom. And the cars just detonated. No mines, though." She met eye contact with the two men. "God, you guys must think I'm crazy."

"No, just weird."

She smiles up at the taller man. "Th...Thanks, Kobra."

"Why were you up, anyways?"

"Couldn't sleep." She gets up, travels back to the window, and lets her fingertips graze the glass, the prints joining thousands others. "She's still alive. She's out there. I feel it. She's calling to me, too. She's coming. Don't worry. I know it. She's gonna make it out of there, and she's gonna come. Then, we can take down BL/ind."

"Who... Is... This other girl that you keep on talking about?"

"She's my soul twin. I don't think we're actually related. But she's the closest thing I have to a sister. I'm gonna find her. I'm gonna help her out of that hellhole."

The other stares out at a much cleaner window, wringing her hands together. She stares beyond the city walls, imagining a life that wasn't so... Confined. She admits that it's a jail. Comfortable, certainly. Very. She got to wear anything - so long that it wasn't color - she got to help those with authority, she had many people who would do anything for her -

But that was the problem.

They wouldn't do _anything_ for her. They'd do _anything_ for _her._

She didn't get why she was so important, so amazing. What did it have to do with? Her power? Her family?

Who was her family? She hadn't known a family since she was three -

Since the Fires.

She remembers things. A warm smile. A bed. Sunlight, gentle but not glaring. A table with splashes of color dispensed on its surface. Art utensils of every kind, encouraging color. A sweet voice singing her to bed. Something safe about the whole thing.

Safety, Comfort, and Color.

She also remembers after the fires. A woman with dark hair, fighting to the death for her. She remembers being ripped away from the woman, screaming in terror as the Men in White Masks came for her and the other. She remembers hearing something like a _zap_ as the woman crumpled to the floor, motionless.

They did nothing about her body.

The girl crosses the monochromatic room to a mirror at a table. In the corner, there is a small, smiling, minimalist face in the corner.

She stares into the black eyes of the smiley face.

"I am Mad Gear, the Freak. Better Living, you're going down."

The woman sits on the edge of the car.

She looks out to the vast desert that engulfs the horizon. It's so much prettier at night, she thinks, serene.

She straightens the dirtied, fading plaid miniskirt around her, zips her dark blue vest up, and lets her hand travel to her hip, where an ultramarine gun sits in a holster. She lets her fingers walk aimlessly along the smooth, plastic surface of the gun, letting the tips fall, dip, and rise in every groove.

"You okay?"

The voice startles her, and she looks up immediately, gun already in her hand and pointed at the figure.

"Relax, dear, it's just me."

The woman sighs, putting the gun away. "Courage, you nearly scared me shitless. Don't do that."

The other lady sits next to her, and gives her a squeezing, one-armed hug. "Hemlock, you're okay."

"Mmn."

"You were thinking about them, weren't you?"

"You know me too well, Courage." The woman sighs. "I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see myself losing him in the crowd. Losing my daughter to those Goddamn Dracs. I don't go a few minutes without them crossing my mind. Courage, they were all I ever loved that much. You never had a kid. You don't know what it's like."

The other wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Godly Hemlock. You are the bravest, stubbornest, most determined woman I know. You will stop at nothing, and I know it. We're going to find them. Okay?"

"I've been searching for seven years. She can't be dead. Not now. But him..." The woman buries her face in the crook of the others neck as she shakes violently with sobs.

"Don't worry. If we can't find him, we'll find her. She wasn't my daughter, yeah, but she was my niece. I'm just as responsible."

The woman sniffles. "I hope you're right."

"Trust me, darling. I know I am."

When I finally fall asleep, I have the weirdest dream.

I'm in a desert. It's night. The ground, which would have been yellow, now glows silver, as if the land was tainted with mercury. It's pretty. No, it's beautiful. The Moon is full, illuminating everything with its mysterious light.

I'm standing in the middle of some kind of shrine. It features a mailbox, brightly colored, with an eye on the front. Various ways of remembering the dead are scattered around: Flowers. Crosses. Sugar skulls. Candles. Dolls. Pictures. I approach the mailbox, and look in.

It's filled with letters. Half of them are addressed to dead Killjoys.

It's a sacred place for the dead.

I turn when I hear whimpering.

A boy lays in the middle of the shrine, curled up on himself. He looks my age, seventeen or eighteen, but he looks so vulnerable. He has dark hair with white streaks in it, but his eyes are the oddest color, a white-gray, the color of his highlights. He wears a black and white shirt, with blue pants and black boots with neon blue laces. His gloved hands are tucked into his chest.

When I lean down next to him and move his hands, they're covered in blood.

His blood.

I push the boy's body into laying flat on his black, to inspect the wound better. It looks like he's been shot, but if I get him somewhere in time, he could make it.

That was the problem: In time.

Suddenly, his eyes open dramatically, pale gray staring into bright green.

"Help me," He whispers shakily, through chapped lips, "Help me."

I wake up sucking in air as if I've never breathed before.

Sensei looks at me with the widest eyes imaginable. "Siren, are you okay?"

I scowl. "Of course I am."

Sensei looks at me with a quizzical raised eyebrow, before reaching a hand to my forehead to check my temperature. After a few seconds, she pulls away. "Thank God, you don't have a fever. Bad dreams tend to come with them." She leans to the side to look at me better. "So, what did you dream about?"

"Don't want to talk about it."

"Tell me, chica."

I look around the van. Leopard's leaning against the window. Neon has his head crooked over Paradise. Crimson and Angel are both pushing their shoulders against each other, keeping both of them sitting up. But all are asleep. I suck a breath in and start.

"I had a dream... Where... I was at this, like, shrine kind of thing. It was this circle, and the edges were lined with flowers, and pictures, and sugar skulls, like, a shrine for the dead. But at this designated top of the circle, there was this mailbox. And it was painted with really bright colors, and it had an eye on the front of it. But the iris... I couldn't figure out what the color of the iris was. I should remember that... But anyways. I looked in the mailbox, and it was half filled with letters, all adressed to the dead."

"Creepy."

"That's not all. I turned to the middle of the circle, and there was this boy laying down. He was curled up on himself, and he was shot in the stomach, and I remember thinking that I could save him if I got him to a medic in time. And then he woke up, looked at me, and said, 'Help me.' And then..."

"That's weird."

"I don't get it. Why was he asking me? Ell- Hellhound - was the healer, not me."

"Maybe it's just your inner conscious affecting you."

I stare at her, looking with a face of bewilderment. "What?"

"No, listen. Like, there was this theory that my parents... Taught me... Anyways. It's a theory that your worries manifest themselves into dreams, because your inner psyche is trying to tell you something. Like, maybe you feel that you need to save someone from death. I dunno."

"No, I don't think it was like that."

"Well, I offered."

"Thanks."

"Welcome."

We sit in silence for a while, letting it create a web of thoughts between us.

"Maybe this person was looking for my brother."

"You honestly think this boy is real? What did he look like?"

"Well... He was my age, maybe a bit older. He had dark hair with pale gray streaks, and was wearing black, white, and bright blue. Killjoy. And... His irises were weird. They were white, but with gray rims. They were weird." I shrug. "Maybe he's a freak?"

"I dunno. Could be."

We stop talking as Leopard starts stirring in the drivers seat. He looks up, around, and makes eye contact with Sensei and myself. "How long have you ladies been up?"

I shrug. "Couple minutes. Start driving?"

Leopard responds by stretching his arms over his head, letting his hands rest on the set of keys stuck in the slot, and turns the car on. Immediately, everyone wakes in a mixture of 'huh's, 'what's, and various moans of different pitches. Paradise lets out a yowl, and Neon turns to look at Sensei. "Would you..."

Sensei reaches over, and lets Neon slip the child into her arms. She leans back, and bounces the baby up and down. "Lookityoulookityoulookityou!"

She yowls again, but happier this time. A chubby arm reaches up to stroke her chin. It's a perfect mother-child picture, without the crazy fashion choices. I have to turn away.

I stare out the window, and watch the mountains disappear.

Battery City Zones, here we come.


	3. Chapter 3: Kick Me Like A Stray

**A/N: Whattup, PPLZ? So, I'm back, with Chappie Three. I would totally appreciate it if I got some reviews, even just one. I have discovered reviews to be the crack of this website, but I don't mind. So, please. Hear that little button weep as it calls your name, begging to be clicked so you can review this story! *Puppy eyes* Pwetty Pwease?**

***Ahem***

**Just do it. Strictly no negative feedback, but constructive is more than appreciated. On a completely different subject, check out the Muppets story by my partner-in-crime, Moonray! It's the best thing ever, and will leave you laughing. Oh, shameless advertising. Just go into our stories, it's there. **

**Sunshine, out. Stay beautiful and keep it ugly, Motorbabies!**

A brunette woman leans carefully over a gray counter, warming dully colored, microwaveable food. She does it without thinking twice - it isn't like she can think twice.

She turns to the three children sitting at the table behind her. Twin girls, nine, and a boy, about seven. All three have dark hair and deep green eyes, almost hazel. She doesn't know where the hazel comes from. She has a hazy memory... A man with those eyes. And marks on his neck... Like, drawings...

She shakes her head. She is Citizen BC-F-4197035. She is a Single Parent, responsible and caring for the three children at the table. Only care. There once was another word, but, like the name of the marked man, it is gone.

She doesn't know why she cares for the children. She isn't even sure if she is their mother. But Better Living didn't explain it, so she shouldn't question.

One of the girls looks up. "Momma?"

They told her that the children would call her that. She simply has to respond. She is their Caretaker, after all.

"Yes?" The woman asks coldly.

"Why don't we take the Drugs?"

The woman smiles unsympathetically. "Because, it will harm you. At least, until you're twelve."

"And what would happen if you stopped taking your pills?"

The woman is at loss of an answer. All she can do is stumble on her words until she spits out, "Well, that will never happen, will it?"

"Well, no, of course not. But just say, Momma, say that you didn't take your pills. What would happen?"

The woman coughs. "Um... Well. I would start going mad, maybe go on horrible rampages where I can't bear anything, and then... I'll become one of those horrible people who live out in the desert and dress in... Colors." She shudders, before giving the girl daggers. "Do your homework."

"Yes, Momma." The girl looks back down at the worksheet handed out at her school. It's a fill-in-the-space sheet on the history of Better Living. The girl doesn't understand why they have to learn about a corporation in school, but what can she do?

The woman feels herself tremble with nerves. "Um... Kids, I'll be... In the bathroom. Yeah. Be right back."

She dashes into the small bathroom adjacent to the living room, locks the door, and stares at herself in the mirror. She sees trimmed, dark hair, warm brown eyes staring out of skin that has started to become sallow. She opens the medicine cabinet hidden behind the mirror, and pulls out a white bottle with her citizen number printed on it. She looks in, to see enough pills for the week.

As she flushes this evenings dose, she thanks some higher power that BL/ind can't put cameras in the bathrooms or bedrooms of households.

The girl looks up from the booth in the Diner as the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She edges closer to the window, before grabbing her helmet and dashing out the door of the diner. The man sitting across from her - a tall man with curly hair, aviators and a black jacket - glances up from some stolen magazines to look at her, but the girl is already gone.

"Missile Kid?" He calls, before closing the magazine and dashing after her.

He finds her standing smack in the middle of Route Guano, arms spread like she's an angel, waiting for something.

"Jet Star!" She calls, "My dream. My last vision. It's coming true. Right now. I sense the green van! It's coming-"

The roar of engines commence, and the man is pulling the girl off the road, back to the offroad diner. "Missile-"

"Call everyone else," She mutters, "It's happening. The van's coming-"

In the shimmering heat radiating off the deteriorating asphalt, a splash of green appears, followed closely by four white cars. Too closely.

Soon, five others run out. The dark haired man and the blonde with the Ray Bans. Another man with shoulder length, cherry-red hair. A guy in his twenties wearing tights and a thong - more provocative of a fashion than usual. A girl in a hot pink jacket, her blonde hair pulled into medium high pigtails. They all look out as well, as the van speeds closer.

They see a few figures in it, faint shadows in dirtied glass, before the side door opens dramatically, and a girl with long, dark hair with blue tips leans out of the door, and points an aqua gun at the cars. The first ray flashes through the air, and pierces itself through the front tire of one of the cars. It swerves out of control, spinning into the next car. Both go flying into their own explosions and infernos. The girl peeks her head back in the van, before sticking back out, this time without her gun. She outstretches her hand out to the cars -

And the earth, quite literally, explodes.

Pieces of rock - Earth's shrapnel - rocket down to the cars, pelting the riders. Those two cars swerve into each other, and the van drives away in a hurry to leave the scene. A small rock innocently bumps on the hood of the lime van.

As the van swerves a dramatic turn, the girl pulls herself back in. The vehicle makes a full U-turn, before stopping completely to face the other end of the road, just in time for another two Drac cars to come speeding in.

The dark-haired girl runs out once more, and stands in front of the car, before a boy about the same age with hair as bright a shade as the van stands next to her. The Drac cars speed past the van, and swerve back to flank either side. The boy turns to jump on the van, climbs to the hood, stands, and outstretches a hand to one of the cars, where the driver is just about to slam on the brakes. The passengers, including the driver, freeze, and the girl makes her move. She starts running to the car, draws her gun, shoots down all the Dracs in the car, and watches as the car swerves away, totaling as it slides off the road. She stows the gun, and turns to the now braked Drac car behind her. She reaches another hand behind her, and slowly...

Pieces of rock start rising from the ground.

The man with the long, dark hair and green vest turns to the curly-haired girl. "You didn't say that there were creepy, super-powered kids in your dream."

"The van coming was where it stopped."

The strange girl raises her hands to the car, where pieces of rock start flying, dodging the car, but hitting the Dracs.

She turns her head into the chest of the tall, dark haired man so she doesn't see the blood.

Now done being occupied with Dracs, I now turn to the van, convincing myself that if I don't go out with my group, they - the people from the building - will gouge my eyes out and eat them for extra protein.

"Neon, off the van."

"Yes, milady," he scoffs as he slides off the side.

I open the door, where Angel, Crimson, and Sensei stare at me with slack jaws. Paradise smiles curiously. "Come on, you guys. Not going out there alone. Either we all go, or we pack this show up and leave."

I stand back as they all shuffle out. Angel gives me a dirty look. I reciprocate with a stuck-out tongue. She snarls; I grin.

We all stand in the middle of the road, a mess of kids, staring at the group looking back at us. I survey each from the distance between: From my left, a woman in her twenties in pink with blonde pigtails. A tall man with a red jacket, two-toned hair (brown and blonde), and Ray-Bans. A towering guy in blue and black, with lengthening, curly dark hair and aviators. A girl with similarly curly hair, but trimmed, with a multicolored jacket and a red helmet at her side. She could be Angel's age. A short man, maybe of less height than me, with jaw-length dark hair and a green vest. A man with shoulder length, shockingly red hair, the brightest albeit Neon's, and a dulling blue jacket. And, on the end, a man (possibly) in blue and white polka-dotted tights, a black thong, a half shirt with the word 'Noise' printed on it, a helmet, and roller skates that give him an extra few inches against everyone else in the group.

I swallow my fear, and start approaching the group. About halfway, the girl breaks away from the two men between her, and comes to greet me with a bewildered smile and enchanted eyes.

"You were the people in the van."

I step back cautiously. "What?"

She smiles nervously. "I saw you coming. Your van coming. Weeks ago. But I never saw who was in the van."

I stare at her. "You're... A Freak?"

"I guess." She grimaces. "So, you were the girl who was controlling the earth. That's amazing."

"It's horrible."

"Why?"

"Another time." I brace myself, before sticking a hand out to shake. "...Cyanide Siren."

She shakes it. Her hands are small, but hold tight. "Missile Kid."

I nod. "And your group."

She opens her arms out in a friendly fashion. "Welcome to the Diner, Siren." She clears her throat. "Bring your friends over."

I turn, and motion to them. All hesitate, before Leopard breaks it and comes. They all follow. Gotta love Herd Mentality. When they all stand behind me, Missile Kid smiles again, and leads us to the group.

"You guys," Missile Kid starts, "They're cool. This is Cyanide Siren. She's the girl who can control the elements. And her group."

I smile hopefully when I make eye contact with the short guy. He hesitates, before smiling back. He steps forward, and grins a little wider as he shakes my hand. "I'm Fun Ghoul."

"Cyanide Siren." I slowly break my hand away.

"You're a Freak?"

"Gotta problem with that?"

"Missile is one," he scoffs, "of course not." He looks down the line, and points to the skimpy guy, before making eye contact with me once more. "Show Pony. Don't worry, he doesn't dress like that usually." He motions to the crimson haired guy. "This is Party Poison-" The guy waves - "And don't worry, that isn't fresh blood dying his hair." As I chuckle, Fun Ghoul motions to Afro Dude. Before he can open his mouth, though, Afro Dude interrupts.

"Jet Star," he introduces, "And over there is The Kobra Kid, and Cherri Cola." Sunglasses and Blondie wave for their respective names. "Welcome to the Diner once again."

I nod, and start to introduce my group. "Skeleton Leopard, the babysitter. He who stands on green cars is Neon Heartthrob." I hear a scoff behind me, but I keep on going. "This is my sister, Arsenic Angel. And this is Crimson, and the Paintball Sensei with Burned Paradise."

Awkward hangs between us, until Redhead - Party Poison - pipes up, talking to Sensei.

"Is she yours?"

"...No," Sensei lies.

"Oh, I just figured-"

"Yeah, man, it's cool. No, she was the kid of a few Killjoys that got Ghosted after she was born. We offered to take care of her before they left."

"Oh, that's..."

She smiles sadly. "Tragic, right?

"...Yeah."

I clear my throat. "So, would it be fine if we hung low with you guys for a while? I mean, we're kind of screwed otherwise..."

Tights scoffs. "Of course. We're not Rats."

I sigh. "Thank god."

Tights starts skating into the diner. "Come one in, all of you!"

I make eye contact with Leopard. He shrugs.

And we walk in.

The dark haired guy - Fun Ghoul - edges next to me. "So, where are you guys coming from?"

"Um... Out of Droughthaven. Clockwork Thief's area."

He stops, and stares at me. "Droughthaven? That's far-'

"And?"

He clears his throat. "So, why did you come here?"

"We needed to get away. We'd been finally found as Freaks. Out death would have been imminent should we have not done something."

"But, Battery City?"

I stare back at him, letting my green eyes bore into his dark ones.

"Don't ask."

I turn around to where Redhead - what was his name? - is standing on one of the tables.

"Alright, new people," He announces, "Welcome to the Diner for the millionth time. Currently, you are in Zone Six, outside of Battery City." I catch Sensei's eye, and we both grin nervously. "So, I would like to say that you are welcome to stay as long as you need, so long as you kill your own haul of Dracs, don't eat all the food, it being shit anyways, and try not to kill anyone else. I would stay away from the backroom, though, we have a DJ. Anyways, thanks for coming!"

He jumps down, and that's the end of that.

I turn back to Fun Ghoul. "Who's your DJ?"

He grins, almost impishly. "You'll meet him."

I should be excited, no?

I am frightened.

As Leopard and I are rolling out the next oil drum, Rehead comes out, whistling. "How did you get all this gas?"

I turn slightly to look at him, still rolling the drum. "Gas stations, abandoned Drac cars. By the way, that car in the middle of the road? We're taking it."

"Yeah, figured. Can I help?"

"Nah, I think we're good." I pause for a moment as Leopard rights the drum on the side of the Diner. "I'm sorry, what's your name again?"

He walks within three feet of me, extends a hand to shake, and says, "Party Poison. Yours?"

I shake his hand. "Cyanide Siren."

"Cool." He grins, flashing white teeth despite the terrible conditions. Now that I look closer, brown-to-black hair is growing in at the roots of his cherry red hair, and his hazel eyes sparkle in the sun. I can't really put an age on his face - how old is he? Twenty? Thirty? Forty, even? All I can deduce is that he can't be in his late forties, nor can he be any younger than eighteen. I silently curse myself for not being able to guess. I also realize that he talks out of one side of his mouth. I don't know why, but it really is starting to annoy me.

He pulls his hand away, and asks once more, "Now can I help?"

I laugh. "If you want to."

He shrugs. "Sure."

As we walk back to the van, he asks, "So, why Battery City?"

"Well, I dunno. It was Neon's idea. We're all Freaks, as you all know, and we recently got attacked by a Drac sweep going specifically for us. Eighty of them, but that may just be me exaggerating hugely. But, we weren't supposed to survive it." As I open the side door, and climb in, I continue talking. "Neon and I had to use our powers, which exposed us. Next, they'd send all of Droughthaven's Exterminators out for us, so we had to leave." I grab the electric guitar in its case, and pass it to him. "Can you get that?"

As he takes it, he asks, "You play?"

I nod. "Yeah." I grab the acoustic, sling it on my shoulder, and slide out of the van. "Played since I was six."

"Six?"

"Yeah. Eleven years." I make my way to the back of the van, and pull out the amp, before turning to Party Poison. "Ready?"

"Uh-Huh."

We walk back to the Diner. I realize that two of the letters have fallen off: **DI E**

Smirking, I walk back in.

"So, where can I ditch this shit?"

"Um... You know, the Doctor should be off broadcast right now, we can put this stuff in there. That's where we keep all the leftover instruments."

"You have more instruments?"

Poison grins. "Maybe..."

We come to a door at the back; Party Poison knocks twice, pauses, once again, pauses for a final time, and lets a knock out louder than the rest. The door cracks a little, and I see Tights on the other side.

"What?"

"Let us in, Show Pony."

Tights - No, Show Pony - sighs. "Why?"

"Because we have guitars from the new Killjoys."

Show Pony lets the door open a little more. "Alright, but be quiet. Dr. D's making another break right now."

"We'll be quick." Poison slides in, and turns to me. "You coming?"

Nodding, I slide in as well. I feel Show Pony's curious eyes on me.

Poison shows me to a corner of the room where various instruments have been jumbled up: A few guitars, a bass, some kind of box with buttons that is completely foreign to me, and even parts of a drum kit. I stash the amp and acoustic, take the electric from him, and turn to the man at the broadcasting equipment. "Can I...?"

He shrugs. "Sure," he whispers.

I turn to the DJ just as he's about to break through the songs. He has long, ratty dark hair, held back by a black bandanna, and a thickening beard. Tanned arms stick out of a cutoff leather vest, and dog tags jingle and shimmer as he moves. Aviators mask his face.

His lips edge closer to the microphone, and...

"Hello, Zones, Dr. Death Defying in."

My blood freezes.

Dr. _Death Defying?_

_The_ Dr. Death Defying?

"What goes, Killjoys? Hope you enjoyed the last set, and if you didn't, tough. In other news! Here in Zone Six, there've been some strangeass things goin'. I'm not talking Aliens or shit, Crashqueens. Drac cars. Unnotified. Slipped past our eye! So, if you know who's letting cars go through, shoot'em down, they're no better than a Drac. No worries, they are not coming your way. They were dispatched by us lovely Motorbabies here at the Diner. Here's some music by the Killjoy duo, Poisonous As Hell, from the Zones out of Droughthaven. They haven't released any new music, though. Something about a band split. It's a tragedy, but whatever. Enjoy, bitches. Dr. D, out."

As Show Pony changes some discs and flips a few switches, the DJ turns off and moves away from the mic, and my comment slips out.

"You're playing my music."

As _The_ Dr. Death Defying turns to look at me, Poison shakes his head. "What?"

Dr. D motions his head towards me. "Are you one of the new kids?"

I nod. "Cyanide Siren. You're playing my music."

He looks me up and down. "Kid, you're not Radiohead. You aren't remotely British-"

"No, Droughthaven. Poisonous As Hell."

He pulls off his aviators, revealing focused, brown eyes, and motions for me to come closer. "Gettoverhere."

Slowly, I approach. I try for a nervous grin.

Dr. D nods. "Clockwork Thief told me about you. Are you Cyanide? Prove it."

Inhaling, I open my mouth and let the beginning of a lyric slip out. "So why hasn't the bullet killed me yet-"

"It is you."

I stop singing. "Yes, it is."

"Why did you break up with your other band member?" He asks calmly, showing no emotion in his voice or face.

"...We didn't break up."

He raises an eyebrow. "Then why haven't you made any music? Clockwork Thief told me you guys broke up."

"We didn't break up."

"Then what happened?"

"Hydrogen Hellhound was Ghosted a little less than a year ago."

Silence hangs in the room.

"I'm so sorry-"

The dark haired girl stares out of the window, sighing.

"Hello?" Someone asks, knocking on the edge of the door.

The girl turns to see a man sticking his head in the door, eyebrows raised. He is dressed in pressed, black pants, and a ruffled shirt under a dress jacket. His head is entirely shaved, and he wears worry.

"Oh, Korse." She says, relief coursing through her veins. She approaches, and outstretches her arms. "Hi."

He pulls her into a tight hug. "How are you, sweet pea?"

She smiles. "Fine."

He raises an eyebrow. "Is this about your sister?"

She sighs. "Yeah. Grace..." She holds back tears. "I miss her, Korse. You and her are the only family I've had since the Fires. I mean, you took me in as your own daughter. She's practically my twin. She told me that she'd never leave me." She turns, and gives a dark look to the glass of the window, seeing the outlines of her figure. "I do think that she's safer now, out in the Zones. I just don't get why she didn't think that I was safer there, too."

"What do you mean?"

The girl backed away, staring into his eyes. "Korse, she's a Freak."

"So are you."

She stiffens her back, recoiling, almost. "You don't understand. Her power is too obvious, and too strong. She saw that they were going to turn her into an Experiment if she didn't do something. And... I heard things, too."

The man looks at her in shock. "What did you hear?"

"That's the Whitecoat's decision. I hear it in their heads. And I can't change it, I'm not allowed to. You said not to."

He knelt next to her. "If it means her safe from death, do it."

She looks at the man with wide, unsuspecting eyes. "What-"

"Trust me. You have to manipulate them."

"Are... Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Definitely. Grace is ten."

"So am I."

"But no one your age should have that happen to them." He stands back up. "I'll see what I can do, too."

As he turns to leave, the girl speaks up.

"You want to get her back, but you don't have the means to do so. You're also not sure if you even want to save her, now that you know she's safer in the Zones."

As he stares at her with a gaping mouth, Mad Gear grins, and raises a finger to her lip.

"Is this where he's supposed to be?" The woman asks, sliding her dark blue sunglasses slightly off her nose so to see the other woman more clearly.

"Yeah, I'm sure it was Zone 3," the younger one answers, "Had to be."

"Courage, are you sure about this? I mean, the likelihood of it-"

"Hemlock, please." She leans over the barrier between the passenger and drivers seat, staring at the other woman. "This is my son in question. My son."

Suddenly, she gasps, and points to a subtle building on the side of the long abandoned highway. "There!"

The other whips her head around. "What?"

"That shack! Hemlock, turn around!" The woman is pushed back into her seat from the force of the other woman making a u-turn almost immediately, but she's grinning too much to really care about her turbulent landing in her seat. "That's where he is!"

The car stops in front of the house with an indiscreet squeal of tires. Immediately, the woman is running out of the car, marching up to the door of the building.

"Courage, don't-" The other starts, but it's not of any use. The other is already knocking on the door.

"Open up," She yells, "Just Killjoys."

As the elder slides next to the younger, the desert air hangs in desolate silence.

And then, the banshee screams of rusting door pins.

A young woman with short, bleached hair in a pixie cut and massive blue eyes opens the door, and peeks out. The smallest sliver of fuchsia can be seen at her collar.

"Um... Can I help you?" She stammers out.

"Yes," The woman says, "Can we talk to you?"

She responds by opening the door wider, and stepping aside. "Come in, girlfriends."

The two women step in, and the younger stares at the blue eyed girl. She wears a hot pink shirt, with a frilly, lime green skirt over striped black-and-baby-blue Wonderland-esque leggings, the bottoms covered by deep purple, knee high boots. Her arms, unclothed, are instead clad with various scrappy cloth bracelets of every color imaginable. She looks like a rainbow.

She shuts the door. "If you need a place to stay..."

"That would help," The older woman begins, "But that's not why we came here." She clears her throat. "Do you have someplace we could sit? This could get heavy."

She nods. "The kitchen."

She leads them into a small room with a kitchenette and a splintering round table. She untucks two chairs from the table, and offers them. "Here."

The women take the seats.

"I'm Careless Smiles, by the way," the blue-eyed girl introduces.

"Heavenly Hemlock," says the older.

"Stupid Courage," says the younger.

"So, what did you want to discuss?"

"Um..." A clearing of a throat. "Is there a boy who lives here? Maybe six or seven years old?"

Careless Smiles' eyes light up. "Oh, you mean Retropolitan?"

The older woman raises an eyebrow. "Retropolitan?"

The girl blushes. "My husband came up with that one. He's funny with words." She swallows. "But yeah, we do have a kid here. Poor thing. His mother went into labor, had him, stayed for a day, and then got chased by Dracs with the woman she was with. In the confusion, she left the baby here, and got killed while fighting the Dracs. We've been raising him since. Tragic."

"Well, about that woman dying..." The younger woman clears her throat. "Is this boy, Retropolitan, here, right now?

"No, you just missed him. He, Factory, and Novel Eyes went on a supply run fifteen minutes ago. Why are you so interested in meeting him, anyway?"

The woman clears a few strands of hair from her eyes. "Because I'm his mother."

Careless Smiles' face drops into shock. She takes a few seconds recognizing the face, and then gasps. "Wha...? How? What? No! You can't be her. She's dead-"

"Yet I'm alive."

The silence that suddenly hangs in the air is disrupted by a man walking through the door, wearing red skinnies, a violet tee, black button-up vest, and a top hat. A purple and red gun hangs off his hip. "Hello... Oh, hello."

Careless looks up at the man, and beckons for him to come closer.

"Who are you lovely ladies?" He asks.

"This one-" Careless Smiles cuts in, pointing at the younger woman, "Is, allegedly, Retropolitan's mother."

The mans jaw drops.

"What?"

Tears spring to the woman's eyes. "Please. You have to help me. I've spent seven years trying to find my baby boy. We must have passed this place without ever seeing it how many times." She breaks down. "Please... Please..."

The man sighs, and holds out a hand to shake.

"Alright, we'll help you. I'm Camisado, by the way."

After the first week, her head felt so foggy, and it throbbed. She felt like puking. She felt unbalanced, asymmetrical. It was a fight every minute to keep herself normal, for the sake of the cameras.

After that, everything was so much _clearer._

Everything made sense. How she was related to the three children. Why she wasn't supposed to show any emotion. Why the world was so _fucked up._

Everything made sense except the children's father.

But as she sat in the children's rooms, outside of the unwavering eyes of cameras, she had a plan to get them out of there. It wasn't safe. She wasn't going to have her children - her own flesh and blood - go through this. Become brainwashed like this.

She wasn't going to let them go through that.

As she tucks one of the girls into her bed, she whispers, "What do you remember of your father?"

She closes her eyes, lost in thought. When they open, she mumbles, "Drawings. All over his body. And they never washed off."

The woman wonders - why didn't she say tattoos? - until she realizes that such doesn't exist in Battery City. She nods, though. It's part of all that she remembers, too.

"Black hair," The other girl calls.

"Dots that went through his earlobes," The boy says, "color-" He slaps hand over his mouth, but the world has already slipped.

The woman smiles. "Hey, it's okay."

The girl looks up at her. "Momma, you've changed over the past 're like how you were before the Cleansing."

Cleansing - oh, right. Fires.

God, BL/ind's education system was so screwed up.

"Hey, all of you," She whispers, hardly audible across the room, "Something big's gonna happen tomorrow night. I want you all to be ready for that."

"Like what, Momma?" One of the girls asks.

"Something big. I can't tell you yet. I just want you to be prepared." She gets up from the bed, and, as she exits the door, her hand floats to the light switch.

"Good... Goodnight, kids."


	4. Chapter 4: Awake and Unafraid

**A/N:** **Hello, lovely people! So, here's chaptah foah, in case you wanted it. Please Please Please Please PLEASE review this! Reviews are what will keep this story going. Also, why am I posting early? Tomorrow is the last day of school for this year for Moonray and I, so we will be bashing with our year and getting sugar high. Besos! **

**Also, for all you Harry Potter fans: I will soon be posting a Next Generation story quite soon. It will probably be my biggest story, as I'm planning seven books (like my idol, JK Rowling - you go, girl), and each will be hopefully in the hundred thousands as far as word count goes. So brace yourselves for that ride!**

**Read, Review, Recommend to other authors, and go blast Dracs! **

**~Sunshine**

"You really didn't have to tell them that Hellhound was Ghosted."

Sensei glares at me as she readjusts how Paradise leans against her shoulder. We're walking out toward the van to get whatever bedding we have - blankets, foam mattresses, fraying pillowcases stuffed with spare clothes - the works.

"It was necessary. They asked about the split, I gave them an honest answer. Unlike you."

Sensei glares. "I'm eighteen, Siren. I really didn't have to get labeled as the Teen Pregger."

"So? It's your own damn fault you got knocked up."

If looks could kill, I'd be long dead.

I grab a few mattresses held together by rope, sling it over my shoulder, and grab blankets. Sensei gets the pillows, and I can see Paradise grasping for one, her fattening hands balling themselves into fists.

"Okay, sorry, chica. Let's change the subject. We're in the Battery City Zones. What's next?"

"We find an excuse to infiltrate Better Living?"

"Do we ask them about it?"

"...No, not yet. I say that let's first find a plan." I think for a second. "Hey, what about Missile Kid?"

"Missile Kid?"

"The little girl."

"Oh. Oh! Well... Why would she say anything?"

"Well, she's a Freak, so we could probably form a bond with her instantly."

"But how would she be of any advantage to us? Look, Siren, I know that you're trying to be thoughtful here, but really, if we want anything done, we're going to have to take things into our own hands. We're going to have to find a way to do it discreetly."

"But we can't do it on our own."

We enter the Diner, and fall into silence. I immediately turn into one of the tables and dump everything I'm holding onto the surface.

Angel approaches, looks at me, then takes her mattress, pillow, and blanket from the pile. "I'm sharing a booth with Missile Kid. FYI."

As she leaves, Sensei whistles. "Fast friends, huh? That's good." She takes her stuff, locates an empty booth across the diner, and gently sets down Paradise so she can make her bed. Once done, she sits on it, and takes her daughter into her lap, fussing with the clothes. Paradise makes a sound that isn't far off cooing. It's adorable.

Sighing, I look around, and turn to see Leopard approaching with Crimson balanced on his shoulders.

"Hey."

"Hey," I answer back. "Share a booth with you two?"

"Um, yeah," Leopard comments, before grabbing his and Crimson's mattresses, blankets, and pillows. I grab my own stuff, and we start roaming for a booth.

As I start setting my bed up, one of the other Killjoys whistles. "You really have gotten settled in quickly. Welcome to the family."

I turn to meet the hazel eyes of Party Poison.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing, just commenting." He smiles, flashing his friendly, small white teeth.

I finish my bed, and turn to face him fully. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened earlier today-"

"Don't be. You didn't run away, which is good, and it isn't your fault. I'm sorry your bandmate died." He pauses. "Were you close to him?"

"Yeah, he was one of my best friends."

"So, what was the relationship? Were you, like, involved, or-"

"Oh, no, hell, no. It wasn't like that. Our relationship was very and strictly platonic."

"Oh, okay." He gestures outside. "Walk with me?"

I shrug. "Sure."

We walk out in silence. The sun is setting, and a cool air has gripped the dusk, chilling my exposed arms.

"How do you guys know each other?" It's the first question I ask.

"We were all... Friends, I guess. Well, Kobra Kid's my baby brother, so of course I know him. But we're all close friends. The blonde, DJ Hot Chimp, is a relative of Dr. D's, as well as his right hand for the broadcast. She's usually in Zone 5, since they don't have a real DJ, perse, but she's staying here for the week. Um... Show Pony decided to lay low with us after we found him in Zone 5, nearly Ghosted. And Missile Kid... We're not sure where she's from. She just appeared on our doorstep a few years back, saying that she had a dream about us. We think she's a Battery City runaway, but we're not entirely sure. She's an odd kid, but we love her. She's basically the mutual daughter - slash - sister of all of us."

"Ah."

"Why were you in Droughthaven?"

"We were from Denver." I clear my throat. "Why were you in Battery City?"

"...Circumstance. Who was Hydrogen Hellhound?"

"My..." I clear my throat. "My best friend." I swallow the beginnings of tears. "Is there a place where I could, I dunno, like... Leave something for him? Like, a shrine?"

He smiles. "Of course."

I wake up again in the middle of the night, panting, a scream about to erupt from my lips.

I turn to see Crimson curled up on top of the table, a cautious roll of sleep, sighing as he stirs. I hear Leopard grumble in the other seat of the booth as his blanket twists around him. I smile a little, before staring back out into the rest of the diner. I see tucked away forms everywhere.

I feel a slight ache in my arms.

Sighing, I get up, and tiptoe across the Diner to the room that I remembered as Dr. D's recording room. I test the handle to see if it will open. As it clicks, I push it forward more and more, until the sliver of space is big enough for me to slip through. I squint in the dark, make out the faint form of my guitar, and grab it, careful to not trip over anything. I make my way back out, push the guitar out of the room, and then, myself.

Save for the missing instrument, there is no evidence that I was ever in there.

I pass outside the Diner, and sit on the hood of the pulled in, cleaned-up Drac car, pulling my guitar into my lap. My fingers form themselves around the neck, the tips sliding themselves against the strings, against the fretboard. I start strumming, letting my eyes close for a second before I start singing.

"So why hasn't the bullet killed me yet, if my future was already set? Well, it's my life, I'll live it loud, and it's my name, don't wear it out!" I belt into the night sky, "Shut up, society, I like myself, and how could you ever help? I shift my nerves so I'll never die, and my heart's stone so I'll never cry!" I strum avidly, subconsciously believing that Elliot is strumming with me, singing the backing parts as I flow into the chorus.

"The truth never hurt if it never happened! The truth never hurt! Lies only live in prisons, and corpses only live in dirt!" I breathe, and imagine the flood that is the recorded version towering over me, washing over.

My strumming is disrupted by fast-beat footsteps, combined with the yelling of, "Siren! Look out!"

I look up just as I see a Drac car passing by, followed by a ray whizzing next to me, directly to the car. I hear the familiar pop of a ray impacting, followed by the panicked screeching of tires.

I slip the guitar off me and let a hand travel to my gun, not pausing to slide it into my palm. I run in the direction of the car, and start shooting as soon as I see forms. Sparks light the ink of the night, and the bodies of Dracs slump to the ground. I see one start running towards me, and I shoot. The bullet passes through its chest, and, unfortunately, to where the gas tank should be.

I have a few seconds to take cover before the car combusts, metal flying everywhere, heat igniting the otherwise cool air. I roll onto my back, and place my hands out, concentrating deeply. When the last of the debris happens to fall a few feet away from me, I exhale relief.

Standing up, I realize that this car can't be saved.

I turn to look at whoever warned me of this.

It's Sunglasses. His Ray-Bans are still perched on his unusually straight nose, despite it being night, and his red jacket catches whatever light there is left. I can feel him staring at me through the glasses.

"You..." I start, but it's never finished.

"You got there fast, considering you never saw the car." He turns to said vehicle. "How do we dispose of this?"

I turn around to look at the Diner for a second. "Did anyone wake up?"

He doesn't move a muscle. "Fuck no. Well, unless any of your group is a light sleeper."

"No one but me."

He flashes teeth as he smiles nervously. "Well, that's that, then."

We resort to taking each piece of shrapnel and throwing it into a ditch on the side of the crumbling highway.

"So you're the kid who screws with the elements?" He asks on a whim.

I stare out for a moment into the dark oblivion. "Am I the kid who screws with the elements?"

"So you are."

My eyesight flits to my feet. "Yeah. Cyanide Siren."

He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

I smile nervously. "Please don't ask that. I hate that phrase. I really do."

He retracts his hand. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine. You don't know me, hardly."

We start walking back to the Diner.

"It's only fair that I let you off the hook this time." I set myself back on the hood of the car, grab the guitar, and, to calm my racing pulse, start strumming again.

"...I recognized your voice. Poisonous As Hell?"

I nod. "My... Friend... And I... Until he was killed by Dracs, poor bastard."

"I'm sorry."

I stop strumming to look at him. "Did you ever play any instruments?"

He chuckles, leaning against the side of the car. "I used to play bass."

"Used to?"

"Well..." He shrugs. "Still do, just not as much."

"Why?'

He laughs uneasily. "Between shooting up Dracs and trying to protect everyone else... Just not enough time."

I nod. "But are you still good enough?"

"Why?"

"I... Um... Could you... Maybe... Teach me?"

He smiles.

"Sure."

I nod again as he walks back in.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah?"

"What... What's your name, again? I'm so sorry, but I forgot."

I hear the smile in his voice: "Kobra Kid."

Mad Gear wakes up to an automated alarm. _Good Morning. Better Living Industries. The Aftermath Is Secondary._

Groaning, she turns the alarm off, and lays in bed for a few moments until she finally is comfortable with exiting the bed's warmth.

She dresses in the standard black and white of BLI's cities, and looks in the mirror as she brushes her hair. Dark strands shimmer in the artificial light of the room. Her hazel-green eyes sparkle with a certain sadness.

When she exits her living quarters, she is immediately greeted by the Exterminator pulling her into a hug.

"...Korse, what's wrong?" She finally asks.

He pulls away. "I've been given permission by Airi to go looking for Grace."

Mad Gear gasps. "Really?"

He nods, picking the girl up and placing her on her feet. "Right now, it's just more Draculoid Pods searching, and setting up cameras. We might be able to find her yet."

She smiles, glowing on the outside, crumbling on the inside.

Run away, Grace.

Run away, Missile Kid.

Novel Eyes combs her bubblegum pink hair behind her ear with anxiety as she stares at the boy in the back of the car, curled up and asleep against the window.

"You're saying that his mother is there. Right now."

"Yes," comes the voice of Camisado on the other side of the transmitter, "She's told us her whole story. Pretty tragic. But it's definitely her. She reffered to Retropolitan by his-" He pauses- "Actual - name a few times. And she's with the same woman she was with when she gave birth."

"Are the two women, like, partners or something?"

"No, sisters-in-law. They've been together since they were separated from their friends and husbands during the Fires. The other woman, not his mother, lost her little girl to BL/ind. No one knows if she's still alive or not."

"God..." She looks at Factory, driving but hearing in on the conversation, biting his lip from nerves. "Where is she now?"

"Sleeping. Both of the women haven't gotten any sleep in the last few days." He pauses. "When will you be back?"

"In an hour if we push our speed up thirty, but Factory's scared of burning the rubber. So, about an hour forty-five."

"Can you make it two and a half? Pull over and tell Retro what's going on. I don't want him getting the brunt of the shock as soon as he gets back."

"Yeah, I get you." She looks back at the boy behind her. "We'll do it."

"Thanks. Um... Bye, Eyes."

"Bye, 'Sado." She turns the transmitter off, and meets a gaze with the man driving. He immediately responds by braking and pulling to the side of the highway urgently, rousing the small boy from his sleep.

He looks up, drowsiness still present in his eyes. "Wha..."

She meets his eyes. "Retropolitan, we need to tell you something."

She sighs.

"Look, I don't know I'm gonna say this, so I'm just gonna say it: your mother's still alive."

"Kids," she whispers into the dark, "wake up."

"Mmh... Momma?"

She blindly walks to the bed where the voice came from. "Yes, baby?"

"Momma, can you turn a light on?"

"No, but get up. I got your clothes and things packed while you were at school today."

The other two are awake now. "Mom, what's happening?"

She sighs, and whispers, "We're leaving Battery City."

"Is it an evacuation? Did the Targets attack with their... Color?" Fear drips in her son's voice.

"No," She whispers, "We're just escaping." She journeys to the closet in the back of the room, finds the three backpacks, and, in the dim, gives them all backpacks.

"Get dressed, we leave in twenty minutes."

She throws the key on the kitchen table as the four leave.

As they drive down the relatively silent streets of Battery City, she adresses her children.

"I will tell you right now that you've been lied to. I've been lied to. We all have. And we can't live like this anymore."

"Who lied to us?"

"BLI."

The children gasp.

"But," one of the girls reasons, "they can't be lying! They made everyone's lives better with the pills, the cities! They are protecting us from Targets!"

"They aren't called Targets. They are called Killjoys."

The word is foreign on their tongues, mysterious and luring.

"I will explain everything. When you kids were really little, something bad happened. While your teachers call it the Cleansing, others call it the Fires. After this, Better Living Industries took over, forming their cities - take Battery City, Droughthaven, Grande Vida, and so on - to trap people. The pills. Better Living claims that it makes you calm. And it does. But in this process, it takes all your emotion away. You can't feel anything, and they take your humanity away."

"So, what happened to you, Momma?"

"I... Stopped taking the pills."

"What?"

"Why?"

"How?"

She sighs. "Just to try it. Remember how I was irritated?" Her children mutter 'yeah's and 'oh, right's. "That was my emotion coming back." She presses on. "It's no longer safe for us. We're going to the only place that will take us in."

"Where?"

She smiles.

"The Killjoys."

I wake up again around five thirty in the morning with a bitter taste in my mouth and a bad dream still fresh in my mind.

God, who was this boy with the dark hair and white eyes? What did he want with me?

Why did he think I could help him?

Unfortunately, I must be making it a bit obvious, because about six people have now asked me if I'm hungry ("No, God"), If I'm tired ("Aren't I always?"), or if I'm in a bad mood ("I'm pretty sure it's Monday").

Today certainly hated me.

After the fiasco last night, I had fleed inside and fallen asleep with my arms curled around my guitar, so now I was outside strumming again, not having to go back and retrive the instrument from Dr. D's room.

Holy shit, we were staying _with Doctor. Death. Defying_.

I start belting out more lyrics when Missile Kid pushes up against me and starts singing along. When I stop to look at her incredulously, she bats her eyelashes, making her aqua eyes water just a little, and it's forcing me to keep on going.

When I end the song, she smiles sweetly at me. "You have a pretty voice."

I raise an eyebrow. "What about you?"

She shrugs. "Not really."

"C'mon. What music do you like?"  
She shrugs. "Um... I dunno... Whatever Dr. D plays is fine, but I really like... What Hot Chimp plays. The blonde girl? She runs a station through Zone 5, and she plays a lot of, like..." Missile Kid lowers her voice to a whisper. "_Sara Bareilles._"

"Ooh, I like her!" I suddenly let slip, and then gasp, turning to see if the boys or Angel heard me. I turn back to Missile, blushing. "Her music is the Sensei's and my dirty pleasure."

She laughs.

I start strumming one of her songs - I don't even remember the title, just the progression and lyrics - but immediately, the frizz-haired girl catches on, clapping to the beat and... Singing.

Missile Kid's voice is lovely, belty, soulful, and like honey, viscous and sweet. She seems to catch the whole 'fuck-you' of the song perfectly. I can't help but grin while she sings. I'm suddenly in a much better mood. I soon find myself singing along, improvising backup vocals. She starts giving me sideways looks, smiling wider than a half moon while she continues to push the melodies out of her.

I turn to see Fro Guy shaking his head at us in disbelief, before turning on his heel and stalking back in.

"Fuck you, Jet Star!" Missile yells from next to me. I can only laugh.

"So," I begin, "How did you join Dr. D's group?"

Missile Kid's face freezes up, becoming emotionless.

Oh, shit.

"I'm so sorry, God, you don't have to answer that-"

"No, no, it's fine. It's just... No one's really asked that. Before now."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

She sighs.

"Well, I..." She coughs. "I was... Abandoned! Yeah. When I was seven. So these guys found me and took me in. And... I... Gotta go... Practice shooting now, so... Bye."

She rushes away faster than wind.

I feel a shadow loom over me, and I turn to see Fro Guy - no, Jet Star - staring at me.

God, he's scary.

I swallow, whispering, "Don't kill me."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes, and steps back, allowing me sun once more. "Kid, why would I kill you?"

I'm taken back. His voice is surprisingly soft, more tenor than any other of the men here. He talks gently, as if he's afraid he might hurt someone. I'm genuinely shocked.

"Uh..."

"What happened? I mean, apart from you two singing shit-pop together."

I feel my cheeks sear. "It isn't shit."

He rolls his eyes. "Not gonna argue, kid. But why did Missile Kid just run off?"

"I... Think I scared her."

He sits next to me on the hood of the Drac car, and looks into my eyes, trying to pick apart the tendrils of green. "Why do you say that?"

"I, um, uh, asked her about why she was living with you guys, and she tensed up. She said that she had been abandoned, but got taken in by you guys. That's when she ran away."

Jet Star sucks in a breath. "Yeah, it's a touchy subject for her. I will say one thing, though: while that is part of the truth, it isn't the whole of it. But don't grill her for it. She'll open up to you when she really feels like she can trust you."

I nod. "I should probably go apologize to her."

"Yeah, but don't worry about it. Give her some space for a few hours, okay?"

I nod.

We sit in silence for a while.

"You play left handed?"

I nod again.

"You're good."

"Thanks." I meet his eyes again. "Did you play?"

His face splits into a genuine grin. "You could say that. I was in a band with Party, Kobra, and Ghoul."

"Really?"

"True shit, my friend."

"Were you guys ever successful?"

He smiles. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. We had a few hits."

I can tell he's lying, one way or another, but I say nothing.

"You sure you're okay?" He asks, "You were moody this morning."

I nod, purse my lips for a moment, and turn back to him.

"You're concerned. You're genuinely concerned."

He raises an eyebrow. "Do I have a reason not to be?" He sighs. "Okay, look, kid. I dunno what you've got up your sleeve, apart from your weirdass powers, but sorry if I'm butting in on anything personal, but you act stranger than anyone else in your little group. And guess what? It's odd. A little too odd. Why?"

I smile sickeningly sweet. "I'm sorry, but I didn't realize that I was acting different." I stand up, gripping the guitar by its neck.

"And don't worry about me. I'm fine."

Famous last words.


	5. Chapter 5: The Worst That I Can Say

**A/N: Hey, y'all. What's up? And please don't say the ceiling.**

**So, I cranked out another chapter! This one's for you. Of course, silly! Who else would it be for?**

**So, I'm giving you the fair warning, right now. My other story, Welcome To Hell! is NOT going to be updated this Friday. I'm probably not going to have computer access this week until Saturday, for reasons that shall remain mysterious... Like... A platypus... Yeah. So shoot for Sunday. If not, I'll try Monday night. I swear, I'll work to do it! I'll actually move my lazy ass.**

**Another point: have any of you watched Mr. Holland's Opus? It's a great movie. Amazing.**

**So, remember: Read! Review! If you feel like it, Recommend (haha, three Rs) this to other authors! People might like it. Might. ****Enjoy this chapter and remain in shock at the end - maybe.**

**Also, for those of you who listen to music while you read, these are the songs of this chapter: Monster by Paramore, From Yesterday by 30 Seconds To Mars, and All The Rowboats by Regina Spektor. **

**See ya next time, and do ya thing until then!**

**~Sunshine**

"No," he says, "We're not going back."

Factory sighs. "Either way, you're going to have to. Do you want to live to see the sun tomorrow?"

"Factory, he's a kid, don't threaten him with death-"

"It's true."

Novel Eyes looks down at the dust, kicking it with a lilac boot.

"Retro, this is your mother. She's been searching for you desperately for your whole life-"

"She could have found me sooner."

She sucks in a breath. "The Zones are big, kid. She couldn't have found you easily. Besides, we transferred safe houses twenty-five times. It makes sense that she finally finds you at the safe house where you were born, kid. Excuse her."

He narrows his light brown eyes. "No."

"You are going to."

"Please, Novel!" He cries, "I don't wanna meet her! She left me-"

"Because she had no other choice!" Factory yells.

Novel sighs. "Look, Retro, we don't know what happened after you were born _exactly_, but we do know that if she had the chance, she would have taken you with her. Besides, if she was being chased like that, you would have died, too. Happy now?"

He looks down at his shoes for a second, and nods his head, before his eyes widen and he avidly shakes his head 'no.'

"Yes or no, kid?"

He never answers.

"Well, get back in the car, I can already feel the air hitting around a hundred-ten soon-"

When Relience gets the transmission from Camisado and Losing Love, he isn't going to be happy.

These are the exact thoughts of Careless Smiles as she tries to comfort the two women who emerged through the door two hours ago while the boys fiddle with a slightly broken transmitter.

A familiar crack, and a new presence splices the room.

_"Hello?"_

"Relience! Dude, you there?"

_"Yeah, 'Sado! What's up?"_

"Dude, shit's going down. Where are you?"

_"Supply Run. Zone 10."_

"Oh, you're far out. When can you get back?"

_"I dunno. It depends on how many Dracs I run into. I'll try to be there in three days. Fair?"_

"Awesome."

_"What's happening?"_

"It's... About Retro."

_"What about him - oh, God, was he taken? Is he with someone? How's everyone-"_

"Relience, calm down. Retro is just out on a shorter supply run with Factory and Novel Eyes. They were just at that old drugstore."

_"Idiots. They should know that all the Twinkies were eaten ages ago."_

Losing Love rolls his eyes. Camisado sighs. "No, dude, they were looking for anything like aspirin that was still valid. Asshat."

_"Speak for yourself, 'Sado."_

"Okay, gotta go."

_"'Kay, dude."_A pause. "_What... Exactly... Happened?"_

"It's-"

_Pop! Fizz! Crackle!_

The connection breaks.

"G'Afternoon, Tumbleweeds," Dr. D enunciates into the mic, "Quick traffic update. About twelve Drac pods were seen in Zone 10 today. Inside information is saying that Exterminator Korse himself has been patrolling our Zones. I want you to keep your eyes open and your hand on your gun. Keep a watch out for this guy, and if you see him, for God's sake, don't be afraid to Ghost him. We don't know what he wants this time, but we might as well stop it once and for all. Stay fabulous, and enjoy this next record. Dr. Death, out."

As he puts the mic away and Show Pony sets up another CD, I raise an eyebrow, looking up from tuning one of the abandoned guitars in the corner.

"Exterminator _Korse_?"

"Yeah. He's the head honcho for the Dracs up at Battery City. Complete monster. He's destroyed so many of us."

I nod my head sadly.

"We're grateful that this is the start of his first major search in about six years."

I look up again. "Why so long? Why then?"

Dr. D looks away suddenly. "I don't know at all! Really."

I try to bore my eyes into him, as if it could intimidate him into saying something. It doesn't seem to be working.

Maybe if I set his stuff on fire-

Shut up, Siren. That isn't gonna work.

I resort to strumming the guitar as quietly as possible. Show Pony takes off his helmet to watch me. I start humming, looking up and meeting his eyes. He smiles, and the skin on his cheeks tighten, exposing unnaturally high cheekbones.

I'm getting up to leave when his voice pierces the room again.

"It was when BL/ind really started taking this area over."

My eyes widen. I let my hand slip from the door handle, and turn around to face the DJ. "Wha?"

"The major search, the last one, was six years ago, after BL/ind fully took control of whatever was left of this shithole."

I walk over to his table, and lean against it, looking at him.

He sighs, and continues.

"While we were still forming the Killjoys, BLI would send regular soldiers - this was before they had Scarecrows - to arrest us. We couldn't figure out what they wanted. We didn't have any information yet. We weren't organized. We hadn't developed our culture. Hell, 109 was only around here! It never got past the Battery City Zones by that point. I was holing out here with... A few friends, and the daughter of one of theirs."

"And that was when the Dracs started appearing?"

Dr. D nods. "Two of my friends ran out right away, and chased them off. I've... Never seen them since." He takes in a shaky breath. "We were avoided for another few days, before Dracs came again. We were able to fight them off, thank God."

"Two months later, Party, Ghoul, Jet, and Kobra showed up."

"They had been captured by Better Living. When they came, they told horror stories of what happened to them. Those bastards tried to give the four of them the pills, to integrate them into their society. They complied for a week, managed to realize what was happening, and stopped taking them. Immediately, BL/ind found out, and imprisoned them. They tried to brainwash them."

A pause.

"They tried to turn them into Dracs."

"They were first tried to be turned into Dracs. Well, just Party and Ghoul. Party fought off whoever tried to tranquilize him. Ghoul actually had become a registered Drac."

My lips form a shocked ring. "How is he normal?"

Dr. D smiles. "The chip they implanted in him failed."

"How? The chips aren't supposed to fail-"

Show Pony speaks up for the first time.

"But this one did. Ghoul doesn't even know what happened. The chip's actually still there, on the back of his neck. We've tried to take it off once, a few years back, but we didn't have any tranquilizers, see, so we just gave the guy some booze, and..." He shudders. "We're not gonna try that again until we can actually get a surgeon and some real painkillers."

Dr. D and Show Pony meet eyes for a few seconds, before Pony gets up and skates out of the door.

The DJ sighs and continues.

"Ghoul was a Drac for about two days before the chip fizzled out completely. In that process, he doesn't remember a thing of it, but Kobra recounted running into him. He didn't respond to anything unless a Scarecrow called it, he couldn't talk, and couldn't think for himself. Thank God he got out of that. But after his chip fizzled out, he continued acting like a Drac so he wouldn't get caught."

"Four days after Ghoul's chip fizzled out, the four broke out, stole a car, and drove two days straight here. They were severely injured. Ghoul was the most fit, but he was still bleeding a little from the chip being implanted. Party had gone totally crazy. Apparently, they figured out that one of his biggest fears is needles, so they used that to torture him. He was delirious for two weeks. At that point, Kobra hadn't been fed anything for a week, and kept on passing out. I had actually known the guy before that, and he had always been really skinny, but this was too much. He kept on collapsing. Jet took it the worst. They used this extreme form of torture. For every time he didn't comply, they cut a shallow line across his back, that wouldn't bleed much, but after a while, there were almost a hundred of these cuts. For weeks he had to lie almost completely still and on his stomach to let the cuts heal."

"Oh, my God."

"After that, there were huge searches for them. We had to fight maybe a total of a hundred Dracs off? There were a lot more of us back then. We lost five Killjoys in two weeks. It was horrible."

Before I can ask anything else, Dr. D starts changing the records, and I leave the room with silence hovering around me.

I'm woken up by screaming.

I sit bolt upright in the booth, and look around for the epicenter of the scream.

There's nothing but silence reverberating through the diner, until I hear a soft whimper, followed by a multitude of them.

I get up and start running to the source, which is proven hard to locate with adrenaline running through -

Missile Kid stares up at me. The slight amount of green in her eyes glows as she looks up at me. She rocks back and forth, and her eyes start darting around. She begins to mutter softly. I get on my knees and sit next to her, trying to figure out what she's saying.

"Three kids... _She took the pills_..."

Her eyes snap shut, and her head falls back. I catch it so she doesn't hit it.

"...Missile? Missile, are you okay?" I shake her shoulder lightly. "Missile."

Her eyes open again, restored to a non-glowing blue green. She turns, and looks at me, her eyes widening in shock.

"...Siren."

I furrow my eyebrows. "What happened?"

"I..." Missile Kid takes a gulp of air. "I... I told you I was a Freak, right?"

"I think so."

She nods. "I see the future. That's what happened."

"What did you see?"

"I saw..." She sucks in more air. "I saw a mother and three kids. Two girls and a boy, all three pretty young. The girls were twins. They were from Battery City. They weren't wearing any distinct color, and they were in a white car. They were looking for us. And the kids eyes... They were so familiar... But I swear I had never seen those kids before."

"When will it happen?"

"I dunno. It could be in a few hours. It could be in a few months. Usually it's between four days and three weeks, but even that's a pretty broad timeline."

I nod, trying to understand.

I turn when I hear rushed footfalls, followed by a relatively small form running into the room and hugging Missile Kid. I recognize past-the-chin black hair, now pulled back to reveal a scorpion tattoo on the person's neck.

Fun Ghoul.

"I thought I heard you scream."

"Don't worry, Ghoul. Siren got me." She looks up at me, and smiles gratefully. I return the smile with a crooked, nervous grin.

He looks up as well. "Thank you."

I nod.

He picks the small girl up, and tucks her back into her booth. She squirms a little.

"Ghoul, I can go back to bed myself."

"Are you sure? Goodnight, little one. Don't let the Dracs get ya."

He turns away, and looks at me. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure."

He leads me through the Diner, opens a door, and reveals the kitchen. He closes the door, and looks at me.

"First of all, thank you for finding Missile Kid. Usually, she screams a few times, so more than one of us wakes up, and a lot quicker. Thank you for getting to her."

"You're welcome."

"Second, I know that you know about the shit that went down six years ago."

My blood freezes.

"Do you want the proof?" He turns around, moves his hair, and pulls the back of his collar down, revealing, right there, a glimmering, silver rectangle sewn into his skin. "It was painful as hell to get, and I'm stuck with it the rest of my life." He turns around, moving the collar and hair back into place. "I just want you to know that you're the only one of your group who knows exactly of what happened. You have to keep this secret. We tell, not you. Please don't say anything."

"You... You have my word. Nothing comes from my mouth."

He nods.

I turn to exit and go back to sleep.

"This big search that Dr. D is talking about."

"Yeah?"

"Does it have to do with Missile Kid?"

I swear, too many questions seem to be answered by silence around here.

She presses the acceleration pedal on the car a little farther down.

Through the rearview mirror, she looks at the children - her children. They look weary, sick, nervous. One of the girls taps her fingernails against the cool glass of the window, her face leaking anxiety.

She can't blame them. It's the same for her.

She tries to compose his face in her mind.

All she has are the familiar brown eyes that all her kids share.

Oh, God, she thinks, what if he's _dead_?

She hears the roar of a car behind her.

She checks the rearview mirror again.

A Drac car is within ten feet. One of the dreaded soldiers themselves stands up, holding a gun. He falls back as he fires from unbalance. The iridescent bullet shot from the device sails easily over the car and into the dark.

"Oh, shit!" She screams, attracting the attention of the kids.

"What's wrong, Momma?" One of the girls out.

"Behind us." She reaches down into the compartment between the driver's and passenger's seats, and her fingers curl around something cold, angular, and metallic. "Drac car. They found out somehow, or they got through, or..." She grabs the item, and throws it backwards. She hears it land in someone's lap, and one of them gasps. "I want one of you to stick yourself our of the window and shoot the car."

"What?"

"Do you want to die or not?"

She hears a pregnant pause, followed by the whoosh of a window opening and the familiar twang of a ray gun being fired. Mass amounts of orange flash into the mirror. The car spins into oblivion, before completely combusting.

The window shuts.

"Momma," one of the girls pants, "Why are we being chased? We never committed any Infractions-"

"Not until _now_," the boy interjects. "Mom, why are you doing this? Why are you taking us from home-"

"Battery City was never home," She says, "Battery City was a jail, and we were its prisoners. BL/ind was our puppeteer, and we were its marionettes." She turns to her son. "I was told a month ago that you were selected to become a Draculoid when you were eighteen."

He scowls. "That's impossible. Dracs are all clones that have been hyper-matured."

"They aren't."

"Yes, they are," All three recite in unison.

"No, they aren't. They are all real men with mothers and fathers. Who may have had wives and kids."

She lets a tear slip from her eye quietly.

"I just hope that didn't happen to your father."

I never knew how much I liked the feeling of guitar strings pressing into my fingertips until now.

I strum a few chords when I feel a form edge up next to me. I don't bother noting who it is. Probably just Angel or Crimson. No one else.

"I think you play beautifully," the form says.

I nearly jump out from my sitting position. My hands fly off the guitar as my arms jerk in surprise.

I look down.

Missile Kid smiles up.

I sigh deeply. "God, Missile, why the hell would you do that? You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry, I didn't know you were going to be so jumpy." She smiles nervously. Her blue-green eyes sparkle in the sunlight. "I wanted to say, thank you for finding me last night. Usually, I scream enough to wake up at least Fun Ghoul. He's the lightest sleeper of anyone, so he usually finds me. But I wasn't screaming that much last night. But someone always has to come for me quick enough to wake me up."

"Why?"

"There's a risk that I'm not gonna wake up."

A pause. "Oh."

"Yeah." Missile Kid nods. "So, effectively, you saved my life."

"You're welcome."

Silence spikes the overheated air. I start strumming to fill it.

"Can I give you my name?"

"I know it. It's Missile Kid."

"No, Siren. My actual name."

My blood freezes.

Is she serious...?

"Why do you want to do that?"

"Because I feel like there's something different about you, Siren. Your friends are nonetheless trustworthy, in time. But you... You've been through hell and back God knows how many times, and it hasn't made you bitter. There's something about you... That makes me know... That you're going to change things. That you're going to change everything. I haven't had any visions about you since before you arrived, but it's more like... A feeling."

"...And that's why you want to give me your name."

"Yeah."

"But it's not worth it. I don't want to know-"

"It's Grace."

I feel like all the air in my lungs has suddenly rushed out of me. Like my gut has been punched.

"What?"

"My name is Grace. Grace Clark."

More silence.

Grace.

Grace.

Grace.

It's beautiful.

"You don't have to tell me yours. I'll understand." Missile Kid - _Grace_- says.

"No, I'll tell you."

"What... Is it?"

I clear my throat.

"Naomi. Naomi Britain."

She nods, smiling slightly. "Naomi. I've never heard that name before." She turns to me. "It's lovely."

I smile back. "Thank you."

We sit in solitude.

"Why do you think I'm going to change things? Rather, _what_ am I going to change?"

"...You want to take down BL/ind."

I swear, my heart just stopped.

"How... How do you know?"

"Why would you come here, of all places? Why would you come to Battery City, the very city that holds BL/ind's headquarters? The safest place you would have gone would have been Riverbed. And, on top of that... Hydrogen Hellhound. He was killed, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Who was he?" Grace - shut up, subconscious, it's _Missile Kid_ - asks with seriousness I've never seen from her before. "If he wasn't your boyfriend, who was he? A childhood friend? A cousin? A sibling?"

I don't answer.

"I lost a sibling, too. I lost the closest thing I had to a sister. I lost her when I ran out here."

I suck in a breath.

She already knows my name.

What the hell.

"Hydrogen Hellhound wasn't my brother."

Grace sighs.

"He was my twin."


	6. Chapter 6: If It Looks Like I'm Laughing

**A/N: Okay, so I skipped a week. Don't kill me! I'm mostly innocent!**

**I deeply apologize for this. I have been attending a PE class so I can take extra electives during term. Basically, this is a four hour bootcamp that requires me to be at school at seven thirty and leaves me physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. This is why I haven't been writing. Thankfully, I am now on my last week, so I should be back in the groove of things soon. **

**For the curious, this regards my Harry Potter fanfic that I mentioned in an earlier A/N. It's gonna be delayed. Very. Why? My brother insists on me turning it into a fanfic of epic proportions, an attempt to become famous in the world of Fanfiction. So, while it will be delayed, there will be no errors in it, for my brother is going to make sure that it is accurate. Hell, here I come!**

**You know the triple-R drill. Now follow!**

**So, enjoy chappie six, and take some cyber cookies while you're at it!**

**~Sunshine**

Mad Gear stares out the window. A transmission echoes through a speaker on the ceiling, a gentle, feminine voice lilting with unnatural calm. _This is Better Living Industries, reminding you to take your pills today. Better Living Industries. The aftermath is secondary._

What...

"Bullshit," she mutters softly.

She turns to a portable transmitter that sits on her desk when a different message falls in.

_"Hey, Bee."_

A smile splits her face. "Korse."

_"You're there. Good. I have some news."_

"Is it good?"

_"Well, there's two sides of the coin."_

"Start with the good."

_"Alright. We found Grace alive."_

Butterflies dance in Mad Gear's stomach, fear bubbling up like water on a stove. "Really?"

_"Yes. We found her through a planted camera in Zone 6."_

"Oh... Um... Wonderful!" She clears her throat. "So, are we able to get her back?"

_"That's the bad."_

"What is it?"

_"Grace was found... With four Killjoys as well."_

Mad Gear feigns a gasp, smirking when she hears a concerned sound on the other end. "Oh, no."

_"It's true. We're going to try and get her back, but it's going to be hard."_

"I know."

_"And Bee?"_

"Yeah, Korse?"

_"Your power... Can you use it to find her?"_

"I dunno, I'll try." _No I won't._

_"Alright. And... Watch out for Airi."_

This time, she has genuine concern. For her life. "Why?"

_"I overheard a few of her... Discussions... With the President of Better Living."_

Something twists her stomach - fear? No, she thinks, I'm not afraid.

_"They suspect you're a Freak. At least. If they know, they haven't done any tests yet-"_

"Korse."

_"What?"_

"Don't worry. I can take care of myself. Remember what you said? Something about manipulating them for Grace's safety? Grace's safety is mine. They know that we're tied together."

_"Alright."_

"Good night, Korse."

_"Good night, Bee."_

As his voice fades into static, Mad Gear smiles. No one's gonna hurt her-

_"Citizen BC-F-34820-J-BLIP."_

She clicks the talk button on the device, forcing monotone into her voice. "Present. What is your message?"

_"This is Airi Isoda."_

Her blood runs cold.

Airi...

"Yes, Ms. Isoda?"

_"Tomorrow at precisely 0730 hours, you will report to my office."_

"Yes, Ms. Isoda."

_"Very well."_

"If I may ask, what is this concerning?"

_"You may not know."_

"Very well. You shall see me tomorrow-"

The connection breaks.

Mad Gear lies on her bed and contemplates.

Citizen. She is a member of Better Living's little nation, not matter how much she's beginning to dislike this prospect. BC - Battery City, the city she's lived in since BLI formed. F - Female. Obviously. 34820 - The number of citizen she was designated as recorded in Battery City. J - Juvenile. She isn't twelve. She can't take the pills - yet.

BLIP?

She never figured that one out.

_Alright. And... Watch out for_Airi_... I overheard a few of her... Discussions..._With the President of Better Living_... _They suspect you're a Freak._At least. If they know, they haven't done any tests yet-_

_Tomorrow at precisely 0730 hours, you will_report to my office_... You may not know._

BLI. Better Living Industries.

BLIP. Better Living Industries _Property._

Everything is falling into place.

Newsagogo is playing with the volume of her radio, while a relatively soft song croons from the speakers. She slows the car she drives in down, looking behind her to check the condition of the supplies in the back. She smirks. The majority of these 'supplies' are CDs that she found laying around in the glove compartment of a few abandoned cars.

But, it's necessary - Newsagogo is kind of the right hand of Arms Dealer, the DJ of Zones 8, 9, and 10.

A dying fire on the side of the road catches her eye, a feathery source of heat in the chill of a desert night.

She swerves the car into the graveled remains of a shoulder. _Crunch,_ the pebbles groan under the tires. She practically jumps out of the car, and goes to inspect the scene housing the flame.

A soft series of painful whimpers makes her blood run cold.

Another car has been wrecked - marks from the neon bullets of a raygun where the gas tank was shows the cause of the scene. The whole vehicle is blown - nothing can save it. And for that matter, no one can do anything with the parts. Next to the driver's seat, she sees a busted transmitter. She can tell that it's a bit older of a shot than the gas tank. Whoever was driving must have been transmitting.

She whistles. Dracs did this? Goddamn accurate shot for one of them.

The driver's door is swung wide open, another bullet hole piercing it directly.

A body lays crumpled on the ground ten feet away.

Gasping, she rushes towards it, turns the body over and onto its back, and cradles the face of the victim.

He has dark hair, with shots of various colors combed in. She can't tell the color of his eyes, only that

they're open.

She lowers one hand to check his pulse against his neck.

Ba-pump. Ba-pump.

Thank God.

His lips part, and, in a scratched, damaged voice, he whispers, "Who?"

She sighs. "Newsagogo."

He barely nods. "Relience."

She smiles painfully. "Hey, Relience."

"Help...?"

She doesn't even answer verbally. She just reaches her arms under him, scoops him up - He's surprisingly light for his size - and carries him away from the scene and to her car. She opens the passenger door, and tucks him into the seat, before closing the door, climbing into the driver's seat, starting the car, and going from zero to seventy faster than she ever has in her life.

She had to get him to Arms Dealer.

She had to keep him alive.

I'm being shoved into a closet.

Lovely.

Angel locks the door, finds a window, pulls back the fraying blinds on it, and stares at the afternoon light filtering in for a second before she turns on me, fury seeping from her jade eyes.

"You did _what?_"

"I told her my name, and who Elliot was. Nothing else. She told me her name first! I had to tell her mine! Why are you being so critical? And why are_you_ shoving _me_into the closet to scream at me? You're ten!"

"You deserved it."

"Oh, I _deserved_ it? I _trust_ her, Angel. She can bear hearing my name. Now shut up with all this! Why are you trying to control what I do? I'm seven years older than you; I'm your older sister. I'm obviously wiser than you. God, if you don't believe me, why don't you just go back and watch it?"

"Alright, maybe I will!"

"You will!"

"I will!"

"You will!"

"Oh, I will, _Siren_, I will."

It's her dark Thumbelina buns that disappear first. Then, her fingers and boots. Then her legs and arms. Then the rainbow wings. Then her chest. Then her head, the last glimmers of green from her eyes fading away.

I fiddle with the lock on the door until it comes undone. I step out.

Grace - shut up, Siren, it's Missile Kid - looks up from a booth.

"Where's Angel?"

I look around the room. Everyone's out, like, practicing shots or something.

Striding through the Diner, I slide myself into the booth across from her. The crackling faux-leather digs into my skin. "Angel is _exercising_ her_power._ She's gonna be out for about fifteen, twenty minutes."

We sit in silence for about ten seconds.

"So, what _is_ Angel's power?"

I look up, mouth gaping. "What?"

"She hasn't told me yet."

"She should tell you, then."

"Please, Siren?"

I don't move.

"Please, Naomi?"

I sigh.

"Angel's power is... She can go back in time. She can witness things as they happen. She can't change them, though. She watches them like she's a ghost."

Missile Kid gasps.

"What?"

She turns away to hide her surprise, but I can see the tension in her shoulders, the trembling in her body, the whites of her knuckles, and her darting eyes.

"It makes sense," She whispers.

"What does?"

The curly haired girl looks up, aquamarine eyes widening. "It's making total sense."

"Missile, you have to explain it to me."

She grips my hands; her knuckles turn white.

"When I met your sister, I found myself... Gravitated towards her. I knew you were special, I already told you that, but I felt that... She was... Like someone I knew... Someone I should be familiar with."

She sighs.

"About two years back, a little bit before I showed up here, I had something appear in one of my dreams. But it wasn't a vision. Something was telling me this. It was saying... There were three of us. Three of us, similar ages, who could... Inadvertently control fate, with time. We couldn't directly change what happened, but by seeing it, we could change things in the now." She clears her throat. "When's Angel's birthday?"

"February 21st, why?"

She sucks in a breath. "Of course."

"Why?"

She holds out a closed fist, and sticks out her index finger. "February of 2009. Arsenic Angel is born. She's Past. Three months later," She sticks out another finger, "May. Bee is born. She's Present. Finally, August, three months after that. I'm born. Future. There's some unnatural connection between us."

I roll my eyes. "Okay, one. I think this is just a load of coincidence. Two. It makes no sense whatsoever. The Acid Rains didn't come until four years after all of you were born. There's no way by chance of fate that such could happen. Third. Who's Bee?"

Grace - ah, shit, Missile Kid - stands up on the booth, checking to see if anyone's there - before jumping back in her seat, and leaning over the table.

"Bee is a nickname for my sister. We're not really sisters, but..."

"Who is she?"

She sighs. "Her name is... Bandit."

"Bandit?" I raise an eyebrow. Odd name. "Bandit what?"

"I don't know her last name. They didn't let me learn it. They didn't tell it to me, but... We were raised together, after we got stuck together a little after the Acid Rains. She... She has two powers. One of them is that she can hear people's thoughts. They don't even know it, but she can just tap into their head. But her other power is... She can see what's happening to other people at the same time."

"That's Leopard's power."

She nods. "But does his have its limits?"

"Well, yeah. He has to really think, and sometimes it doesn't work."

"That was how Bandit's power started. But it's evolved since. In the last years since I've seen her, I don't even know how much it could have matured."

She clears her throat after a few seconds of poised silence.

"There's something about the three of us. We were meant to meet. We were meant to-"

The closet door opens, and a pair of rainbow wings sneaks into my vision.

I'm strumming outside again.

_This_ goddamn dream.

This _goddamn_ dream.

This goddamn _dream_.

Who is this boy with near-white eyes? Is he even real?

_"Help me," He whispers shakily, through chapped lips, "Help me."_

I angrily slam my hand against the strings. Buzz echoes from the instrument, and I feel a nail fold on itself.

Ouch.

I stop playing.

I must be going crazy. At least a little mental.

The first sign of mental delusions is that the patient is unaware of their own psychosis. They believe that nothing is wrong with them.

Sensei made me read that. Sometime ago. Don't really remember. I think she did that to reassure me that I wasn't meant to wear a straightjacket. "It wouldn't compliment your figure," she once said. Haha, Sensei. Very funny, Akira.

I feel my eyelids being weighed down like lead. My spine starts to slump. I yawn, and wrap my arms around the body of the guitar as I lean back.

This is dangerous.

I could die.

Dracs could find me.

Fuck off, instinct.

I feel myself falling asleep...

_Hello?_

"Jesus Christ!" I yell, bolting up. I look around.

"Who..."

Silence. Darkness.

_Hello?_

"Ohmygodwho'sthere?"

_Can you hear me?_

"Who. Are You?" I stand up, place the guitar at my feet, and wrap my hands around my gun. "Show yourself!"

_I'm not there._

"Then where are you?"

_Better Living's Headquarters._

I draw the gun, and hold it close to my chest. "How do I know you're not lying?"

_Because I'd show my face if I was there. _

I slowly lower my gun.

"Who... Who are you?"

_I'm Present._

Present...

Present...

"You're Bandit. You're Missile Kid's sister."

_That's what I was once called. You may now call me Mad Gear._

Mad Gear.

Huh.

_You don't have to talk aloud. Just say things in your head. I can hear them._

What?

_There you go. You don't wanna get caught by those Dracs, do ya?_

No. Wait, what do you know?

_Korse. The Exterminator. He's been looking for my sister. Don't let them catch her. Don't let them get Missile _

_Kid._

I wasn't gonna. What would happen?

_You know how she's a Freak?_

Yeah.

_Her powers are much more obvious than mine. She was a test subject. I'll become one if I don't run. Siren... They'll kill her if you let them get her._

How do you know my name?

_You just said it. It was in your thoughts._

It...

_It was._

Alright, why are you talking to me?

_Because you're special. Missile Kid said it herself._

Why don't you call her Grace?

_Do you?_

Yeah... Kinda...

_It isn't her name anymore._

It will always be her name. Bandit will always be yours.

_Don't. Please. And I'm talking to you because I know you're gonna help me._

How?

_One, you're not gonna tell anyone you talked to me unless I tell you to. Two, you're gonna lead the fall of BL/ind. I know it. And three? You're gonna be there when I come to Zone 6. You're gonna wait for me._

You're... Coming.

_I leave in an hour. There's a guy that runs people to Battery City's border. I get dropped off there, and I'm on my own. I fight until I make it there. _

I can... Help you. I'll drive to a close Zone, or the one where you get dropped at, and I'll pick you up.

_I admire your courage, Siren, but this is something I need to do alone. I'm not better than any other Killjoy. I have to make it without anyone's help._

Why?

_I have to prove this to myself._

And why again.

_Because I have to know if I can stand it._

"Is there anywhere I can, like, go talk to the dead?"

It's a pretty random question, but Party Poison just looks up at me and smiles, crooked but friendly, cherry hair hanging a little in front of alight eyes.

"I'm going there today."

I lean across the table. "Really? What is it?"

"It's... We call it The Mailbox. Because that's what is is, exactly. A mailbox. Filled with letters for the lost and Ghosted. I'm delivering everyone's today, but you can come. If you want. If you have a letter."

"Got paper? And pencils?"

He nods. "In Dr. D's room. I'll go get you some right now." He stands up, leans into the booth to grab his dark blue coat, and walks into the DJ's room, throwing his jacket in a random direction in the meanwhile. It lands on Jet Star's head.

"Watch where you throw your goddamn jacket, motherfucker!"

As Party Poison chuckles, I hear Crimson ask Leopard, "What's a motherfucker?"

Oh dear God.

I drum my fingertips against the surface of the table until Poison leans over me, setting a piece of paper, an envelope, and a sharpened pencil.

"Here you go."

I look up at him. "Thanks."

He says 'you're welcome' by smiling, patting my shoulder, and walking away.

"Here we are."

I step out of the passenger seat of the Trans-Am, clutching my letter to my chest. I shut the door, and watch as Poison grabs a whole bundle of letters from the space between the driver and passenger seats. Instead of opening the door, he grips the top of the windshield and the door and jumps over.

What a weird guy.

He adjusts his sunglasses, and points in a direction. "That's it."

I see, in the haze of a hundred and fifteen degrees and kicking dust, the vague form of something with a rounded top.

We start walking.

"So, who started this?"

"Well, the Mailbox was set here right after the Killjoys started forming, as a way to mourn the dead and such. People started using it, but then brought all these other ways of mourning. Flowers, pictures, a few brought sugar skulls... Anyways, everyone still uses the mailbox, filling it with these." He grins sideways, holding up the bundle of letters. I nod.

"Here, you can stop staring at either me or the ground. We're here."

I look up.

_ I'm in a desert. It's night. The ground, which would have been yellow, now glows silver, as if the land was tainted with mercury. It's pretty. No, it's beautiful. The Moon is full, illuminating everything with its mysterious light._

_ I'm standing in the middle of some kind of shrine. It features a mailbox, brightly colored, with an eye on the front. Various ways of remembering the dead are scattered around: Flowers. Crosses. Sugar skulls. Candles. Dolls. Pictures. I approach the mailbox, and look in._

_ It's filled with letters. Half of them are addressed to dead Killjoys._

_ It's a sacred place for the dead._

Holy shit-

_I turn when I hear whimpering._

_ A boy lays in the middle of the shrine, curled up on himself. He looks my age, seventeen or eighteen, but he looks so vulnerable. He has dark hair with white streaks in it, but his eyes are the oddest color, a white-gray, the color of his highlights. He wears a black and white shirt, with blue pants and black boots with neon blue laces. His gloved hands are tucked into his chest._

This can't be it-

_ When I lean down next to him and move his hands, they're covered in blood. _

_ His blood._

_ I push the boy's body into laying flat on his black, to inspect the wound better. It looks like he's been shot, but if I get him somewhere in time, he could make it. _

_ That was the problem: In time._

_ Suddenly, his eyes open dramatically, pale gray staring into bright green. _

_ "Help me," He whispers shakily, through chapped lips, "Help me."_

"P-P-P-Party Poison?" I stammer.

"Siren, is something wrong?"

"I-I-I-I think I'm gonna be coming here a lot more often."

She hugs the boy once again.

"You have no idea how long I've looked for you."

The boy smiles, wrapping skinny arms around her neck. "You've said that a hundred times now... Mom."

She expects the hesitation. She hasn't been there for six, seven years.

Jesus Christ, she had to catch up with her own _son._

"If I have you, now," Retropolitan begins, "What about Dad?"

Stupid Courage pulls her head back from where it was, just above the boy's shoulder, to find any expression in his honey eyes. "What?"

"Dad. My dad. I have to have one, right?" He tilts his head. "Camisado isn't my dad, is he?"

She chuckles. "No."

"Relience?"

"No."

"Losing Love?"

"No, Retro."

"What about Factory?"

"Nu-uh."

He tilts his head. "Um... Mockingbird Metronome?"

She laughs uneasily. "No, none of them."

"Well, then, who?"

She sighs. "Retro, your father and I were separated a few months before you were born. BL/ind tore us apart."

"Bastards."

She raised her eyebrows. _Who_ was teaching _her son_ this _language?_

But she nods. "Yes, they are. I ended up with your aunt, Heavenly Hemlock-"

"Whoa, she's my _aunt?_"

"Yes she is, Retro." She sighs again. "I had you a few months later, and then... They tried to come after me." She pauses to clear her throat. "You had a cousin, you know. She was a few years older than you. She was taken. We don't even know if she's still alive."

Retropolitan just nods.

"Y'know," the boy says, "There was this guy... Well, two guys... That came through a few months ago. One of them had this crazy hair. Another had, I dunno, blonde hair, and wore these funny sunglasses, like the ones Camisado wears. And when they left, 'Sado said that he looked like me."

She gasps. "Retro, what did he look like?"

He shrugs. "Tall and skinny everywhere. His nose kinda stuck out."

She bites her lip.

Her boys.

Both her boys were still alive-

With a_bang_ and a few loud pants, Careless Smiles, Mockingbird Metronome, and Losing Love burst through the door.

Mockingbird supports a short woman with cropped, dark hair and a crimson stain blooming on the leg of her white pants. The leg is kicked up, held above the ground, as if lowering it would cause more damage than what's already done. Losing Love holds two girls, twins. One of them is loosely carrying her arm while the other is asking, nonstop, "Are you okay?" Careless Smiles carries a slightly younger boy, who whimpers as he holds a side, trying to dam tears with his eyelids. All three of the children have the same cropped dark hair and chocolate eyes.

A matted black print on the boy's shirt flashes like a strobe light in her eyes: BL/ind's logo.

The woman mutters, "Help us, please," and then looks up.

She gasps.

Stupid Courage hasn't seen that face in years.


	7. Chapter 7: To All The Cyanide You Drank

**A/N: Oh, my God, she's back.**

**Sorry about the delays, to who reads this story. For the last how-many-weeks, I've been in a summer class that has left me exhausted and unable to write. And I believe running a mile every week gives me writer's block. And when I finally finished this chapter, FFnet wasn't loading due to slow internet, so I couldn't post it. How many eons later, I finally posted this. Woo.**

**Alright. Enjoy the chaptah! And, for those who forgot the drill: Read! Review! Maybe Recommend this to another author! Or Alert! Or Favorite! PM me if you feel like it! Read Moonray's story, Don't Wanna Dance, in our Stories thingum! Yah!**

**~Sunshine**

As soon as she steps out of the car, Mad Gear's feet are moving, picking her up and into the desert.

She pants, heavily. Her feet are aching already, and it's hardly been a quarter of a mile. But she has to run.

She has to live.

After a while, she begins to ignore the pain. All she thinks about is what Airi could have done to her. All she thinks about is why she's running.

_I have to find Grace. _

_I have to escape BL/ind._

_I have to meet Siren._

She stops when she decides that she's at a safe distance, and begins to scope. Cracked, tan earth and pathetically growing plants cover the horizon. A waning moon and little amounts of light pollution from Battery City is all that illuminates the landscape.

She sees a shelter farther into this particular expanse. A shack is a better description, she finds, but still continues to run, this time towards the shambled structure, letting out a shaky exhale. Her hand flies to a white gun at her hip. She draws it, pulling it closer to her as she runs. She smirks inwardly at the obtaining of the gun.

She hoped no one would find the evidence.

She dives into the shelter, not bothering to see if there is anyone in it first. She already knows that it's abandoned. It's simply too close.

Mad Gear sits in the middle of the shack, stows the gun in her pocket again, and lays for a moment, letting herself catch her breath.

She closes her eyes.

_Siren, you awake?_

* * *

_Siren, you awake?_

I tense up; I'm awake again, sitting up among my blanket. I feel a sheen of sweat coating my upper lip, my shirt sticking to my back.

_Siren?_

Yeah, Mad Gear?

_You're awake._

Got a problem with that?

_No._

Where are you?

_I'm... I'm south of Battery City. Maybe a mile and a half out._

Do you want me to come after you? We've got the van, we've got a couple of cars-

_Only when I get close enough. Zone 4, maybe._

How're you gonna get there?

_I dunno, walk, maybe hitch a ride-_

I'm getting you right now, I think, getting up and stretching, where are you, honey?

_Siren, this isn't necessary-_

Mad Gear, you are going to die.

_No I'm not-_

I know what I'm saying. You've just been exposed to this! I've been living in it for seven years! Trust me. If you don't get help, you are going to die, very quickly. Now, where are you?

_Siren, please-_

Where. Are. You?

_I'm... I'm in an abandoned shack in Zone 1. Close to the borders with the City. Siren, I'm scared._

Hang tight, hon, I'm coming to get you. Goodbye.

_Bye, Siren._

I stretch my arms above my head, before scanning the room, and sliding across it, to where a girl with pale brown curls sleeps.

"Gracie, wake up."

She stirs, her head twisting as she looks in my direction. When her eyes begin to focus, they widen.

"Siren... What are you-"

"Shh." I touch her wrist with two fingers. "I gotta go somewhere. I might be gone for about a week. All I want you to do is tell them where I went."

"But where are you going?"

I flit my eyes to the side, nerves taking over. "I'm... Going to meet a friend."

"Who?"

"Her name is... Mad Gear."

"You mean Bandit."

My heart stops, and I feel ice coating my veins. My gut wrenches into the familiar tight knot of fear.

"It's okay, Siren. I had a dream about it. Please, go get her. She's dying. I just hope you know where to go."

"I think I do. She'll lead me."

"She better." She wraps her arms around my neck. "Good luck, Naomi Britain."

I return the hug. "Thanks, babydoll."

As she leans back to curl back into her blankets, I smile, and walk away.

The keys to the converted Drac car sit next to our spare guns and batteries. I don't think twice to pack extra ammunition.

I push the dirtied, glass doors of the diner open, and stare in the direction of the Drac car. It's been spray painted neon blue, with messed, gangsta-feel graffiti words plastered onto it. Even the tires have been painted, sprayed a bright, eye-burning pink. A pair of green fuzzy dice hangs off of the rear-view mirror. The side windows have simply been taken out. No use for them. And thank God that thing has no roof.

I'm swirling the keys around my left forefinger, walking towards it-

"So, picking up a friend."

I tense up, throw the keys into my right hand, and within seconds, I've pulled out my gun, cocked it, and pointed it at the form. In the dark, I squint, but as I recognize the person, I begin to lower the weapon.

"...Fun Ghoul?"

He nods. "Couldn't sleep. I heard everything.

I bite my lip, sheathing the gun. "Well, I guess, in that case, I can't lie about anything." I switch hands with the keys again. "Yeah, I'm picking up someone. She's... A Freak that managed to contact me. She can read minds. She escaped from BL/ind, but she's stuck in Zone 1, just outside the City. She has no hope if no one gets her, so..."

"That's impressive."

My eyes widen. "Wha?"

"I'm amazed at your bravery, Siren. No one would do that normally. You've hardly been here a few weeks, and you've made the majority of everyone here like you, one of them trust you to the death. You barely know these Zones, yet you're willing to drive off in the middle of the night to pick a stray Motorbaby up. Cyanide Siren, you're a pretty fucking brave kid. It's admirable."

"Thanks."

"Alright, when do you think...?"

"A week, maybe two? I'll try and be back as soon as possible."

"Great." I'm about to turn to leave, but he says, "Wait."

Fun Ghoul raises two fingers, and slides them close to my hip. I feel heat creeping up my neck,

thinking, _oh, God, what's he doing, tell me he's not raping me-_

The fingers rest on the gun. A few clicks emanate from in it.

When he pulls his hand away, I stare at him, eyes widening. "What was that-"

"I was charging that battery."

My mouth drops.

"Wuh?"

Fun Ghoul bites his lip nervously, looks around, and leans in.

"Siren, me getting registered as a Drac wasn't the only thing that happened to me seven years ago." He sighs. "I got caught in the fuckin' Rains. Siren, I'm a Freak, and I'm like the rest of you." He clears his throat. "I... Play with electricity. Batteries. Chips. Programs. Shit like that. Don't ask me how, I just do."

I think about it.

Fun Ghoul...

Drac...

Chip disabled...

Freak...

_I... Play with electricity. Batteries. Chips. Programs. Shit like that._

_Play with electricity._

_Chips._

"You disabled that Drac chip 'cause that's part of your power."

He nods. "Don't ask me how, though, I was practically a zombie for those few days."

"Seems like."

He simply nods. "I'm sorry to dump all that on you. But I feel that you were ready to know. I think..."

"What?"

"I think I can trust you." He smiles, sweetly, closed mouth. His chocolate eyes scrunch up a little, and he kind of looks like a kid, before he extends a hand to shake.

"Names."

I hesitantly extend a hand. My fingertips slowly edge towards his. I consider pulling my hand back...

Should I?

No?

Yes?

Too late. My hand connects with his.

"Naomi. Naomi Britain."

He nods. "Frank Iero."

* * *

"I can't believe it's you," She whispers.

The woman in front of Heavenly Hemlock wipes her dark eyes. "I can't believe it's you, either. It's been, what, seven years? Since the Fires started."

"Yeah. Long fucking time."

"True." She leans across the table to grip the blue-clad woman's hands. "Jesus, it's been forever."

"What happened to you?"

The white-clad woman sighs, relaxing into the chair. "Where do I start, y'know? I mean, you know, back in 2012..." Both women shudder, "Anyways, after I had gotten separated from everyone... I took the kids and, well, we started walking. We didn't even know where we were going, just that we were going somewhere." She wipes her eyes to prevent tears. "Z, I almost died then. All four of us almost died then.

"Eventually, we saw lights. White and bright. Huge. So, we walked there. Right into Their hands. They said

They wanted to help. That They'd feed us, clothe us, give us a home. And They did. They just took away who we were." Her hand squeeze tighter on the woman's hands. "They made me stop loving my own children. You can't imagine what that was like. I'm just glad that I was finally able to come to my senses and flush the drugs." A tear slips down her cheek. "I was so scared." She sighs, and smiles. "So, 'Licia and her son."

Hemlock laughs. "Yeah, that's a long story."

"I got time."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

The Killjoy sighs. "So... God... After we all got separated, Courage - 'Licia - and I found each other, and stole a car. She was, I dunno, three or four months pregnant by then? So, we drove around for the next five months, living off canned beans and condensed milk, until she went into labor. So we drove down Route Guano for, jeez, two hours straight, until we found this building. And the same people living in it. So, Courage had Retro, and we stayed for a day, until... Dracs found us.

"They were after us for something, we know that, we just don't know what. But Courage had to leave Retro behind. She told Smiles to take care of him, and then... We had to run from them. We drove for an hour before they got us. And... They took her."

"Who - oh, Z, no..."

Tears spring in Hemlock's eyes.

"'Mia, they took my baby girl. I don't know what's happened to her. I don't even know if she's alive. My Lady B, gone."

"You're... Oh, God, I'm sorry." She stands up, leans over the table, and embraces the crying rebel.

"'S... 'S... 'S okay, 'Mia," she says. And smiles.

"What? Why the smile?"

"You're gonna be staying for a while, aren't you? We gotta get you some better clothes."

* * *

Zone 3.

God, will this fucking drive ever end?

My eyes are stinging from being awake, my ankle's starting to have spasms from keeping it on the pedal, and my wrists just _hurt._

If this is what it felt like for Leopard when he drove us from Droughthaven, I'm so thankful he took the wheel.

I tilt my head back and yawn, my eyelids weighing down.

I could sleep...

A mass sits in the middle of the road.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" I scream, swerving the car off of its path to get away from the form. The car turns dramatically, and... Holy shit, is that the back wheels _lifting?_ I feel tension in my gut as the car spins, spins, spins on its front wheels, circling a good few times. My hand fumbles for the stick, trying to switch the car to parking as I slam on the brakes. As my foot presses into the pedal, the car tips... Left, right, left, right...

Yup. This car's gonna flip over.

Love you all.

I close my eyes, and tears sting the orbs as I wait to be crushed by the car tipping.

Thunk! The car rights.

I'm alive.

I sigh deeply, and sit up to see what happened.

Tire tracks stain Route Guano, dark swirls of rubber shimmering in the fading moonlight against a pale gray canvas. _I did that?_

I run to whatever's in the middle of the road.

Now that my eyes are focusing again from the adrenaline waking me up, I see bright splatters of neon, illuminating a vague form, blue, green, purple, and red spots pinpricking the form with color.

I barrel towards it.

It - no, she - is a few years younger than me, about fourteen, maybe fifteen. Jagged cuts of a light mane encircle her head, streaming out to her shoulders in some areas, meeting her ears in others. A single, jagged streak of some dark color is combed into the edges of a cut of hair in front, bordering her face. The longer locks that would otherwise fall into her eyes are tied back with ratty, fraying ribbons, the falling weave tickling her cheek. Her skin is pale, glittering a little in the small amount of light.

I tuck two fingers under her jaw.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

Ohthankgod.

I slip my arms underneath her, pick her up, and carry her back to the car. I open the door to the backseat, stretch her legs out, and lay her stretched out in the faux-leather. She sighs, and it shocks me; I nearly drop her head.

When I finally get the girl settled, I hear something.

_Siren?_

"Hey, babydoll," I mutter.

_Where are you?_

Zone 3. I'll be there within 18 hours.

_Come fast. I just saw three Drac cars. They're passing through Zone 2 right now, but they're trying to get to _

_6._

Gotta be shitting me.

_Shitting you?_

Sorry, Gear. My... Dad... Used to say that. I guess it's something from where I'm from.

_Alright, whatever. Come quick. Please. We gotta stop them._

Okay, girl. I'm trying the best I can.

I turn the car around, and slam on the acceleration pedal once more.

* * *

As soon as I get to Zone 2, I stop the car on the side of the road and check on the girl.

Now that the sun's out, I can see her completely.

Her hair is blonde, the sandy color of the vast environment around us, and the ribbons in her hair are a red that reminds me uncannily of an apple. The streak in her hair is a bright, electric blue, similar to the tips in my hair. She wears black skinny jeans that pinch and fold a little where her knees are, with paint splatters in the same blue as in her hair and a deep purple. There are also some clear-looking stains that I imagine to be the glow-in-the-dark spots from last night. A red tank that matches her ribbons clings close to her body, under a loose, white shirt with music notes printed on, and the same clear paint stains. Red converse bind her feet, and I catch a glimpse of an inked, realist skull on the outside of one of them.

And she's singing.

She's still very asleep, it's obvious. But her crackled lips are moving, forming words, as her throat croons out a melody. I can't remember the song, but I remember that Clockwork Thief used to play it when we lived outside Droughthaven. Memories begin to weigh me down.

I place a hand on her leg, and shake. "Hey. Hey. Hey. Wake up."

Her golden eyelashes tremble a little, and her eyes fly open.

They're a deep, reflective-looking brown, a dose of foreign embedded into the stark pale of her skin. They're like... Dark wood. Like bonfires in the summer. Like the pungent spike of pine in the winter. Like long hikes with Elliot and Dad through the mountains. They're like everything I remember of home, of Colorado, of everything I left behind when that dark brown burned away, exchanged by rolling gray and stinging orange.

Before everything went south.

Her jaw falls, and her lips start to tremble. "Who-who-who-who-"

"Calm down. I'm not gonna hurt you."

She's still breathing very heavily, but she manages to form her question. "Who are ya?"

I smile uneasily. "Cyanide Siren."

She nods. "G-G-Gunshot Melody."

"Cool." I bite my lip. "What happened to you?"

"F-F-Fucking Dracs." She inhales a shaky breath. "They frisked me. They took my gun. They hit me. Over

and over again. And then... They told me..."

"Gunshot, what did they tell you?"

"Run. Don't stop running. Keep running."

* * *

A shrill scream pierces the morning air of Zone 6.

"WHERE IS SHE?"

Skeleton Leopard slams a hand over the brunette girl's mouth. "Angel, I need you to calm down."

"But - mmmph - I -mmmnh! - It's my fault, Leopard!"

"No it isn't, Angel."

"But you have to listen to me! I yelled at her yesterday! She's mad at me, and she's run away, and holy fuck she's gonna kill me when she gets back!"

"Why do you think she's done that?"

"I dunno-"

"She didn't do that."

A third person comes into the room. She pulls a violet motorcycle off her head, revealing a hurricane of caramel hair.

"Cyanide Siren is on her way to Zone 1 right now. She's picking up a runaway from Battery City. I don't know how you didn't notice her leaving at, I dunno, ten last night? It's been twelve hours. She has to be in Zone 4 by now."

The girl with the angel wings huffs. "Is she _trying_ to kill herself?"

The third in the room smirks. "Yeah, maybe."


	8. Chapter 8: I Believe We're The Enemy

**A/N: Hello, lovely children! It's Sunshine, back again, with chappie eight! I'm actually shocking myself with being able to be relatively on time with this chapter. Have fun!**

**Quick announcements: One, for those who were reading another of my stories, 'Welcome... To Hell!', don't worry, I haven't stopped writing it. The issue is I just can't crank out a chapter that I particularly like, so I delete it. Then regret it. Then write another version. And I've caught myself in a vicious cycle. I'm trying as hard as I can, but, being a little bit of a perfectionist, I don't know when I'll actually come out with something I like.**

**And quick question: Is it just me, or does I Don't Care by Fall Out Boy sound like the boys are trying to imitate The Black Keys?**

**Art is the Weapon, Use It as you Wish.**

**~Sunshine**

Fuzzy outlines.

That's all he sees.

Voices reverberate through his head, but it's like listening to a conversation underwater.

Then, his senses begin to come back.

The outlines form into two people.

One of them has a square _everything_, from his oblong chin, to stocky shoulders, even the shape of his eyes, to a certain extent, and he reminds Relience of a walking rectangle. He wears these eighties horn-rimmed glasses with the frames painted radioactive orange. A pinstriped fedora sits on his head, ripped, patched, and stained, but still very wearable. He wears what looks like street clothes from before the Fires, but to make up for the general normality of his clothes, he has rayguns strapped _everywhere_ on his body. They're every color and pattern imaginable, neon and highlighter colors, rainbow animal prints, checkers, even one with words printed in minuscule font all over it. His arms are crossed, and his face is stern.

The other is _gorgeous,_ almost foreign looking. She's small and hourglass shaped, and looks like a weeping willow, with her shoulder-length wood brown hair streaked with silver green, and her deep tan. She has huge, emotional brown eyes that sparkle with tears. She wears a sage-colored tank, black cutoffs, a silver belt hooked around her waist, and shiny, black, knee-length boots. A white gun with leaves painted on sits at her hip, and hundreds of wristbands are piled up to her elbows, every shade of green imaginable. She reminds him of something, one of those weird myth chicks, like, a nymph. No. Like, a woodland fairy.

"Hey, Relience. You okay?"

His lips part to form a confused, "What?"

She laughs, but he can hear the fear in her voice. "You've been out for three days. I found you in Zone 10, ejected from a completely fucked car, losing blood like you can't believe, losing conscious fast. I'm Newsagogo. Remember?"

"...Yeah. Um... Where am I?"

The guy speaks up. "Zone 9." He holds out a hand to shake. "Arms Dealer. DJ for 8, 9, and 10. Where're ya from?"

"Um... Zone 7." He clears his throat, but his voice is still scratchy. "Do I know you? You look really familiar."

He shrugs. "I dunno."

He can see Arms Dealer's eyes flick around.

Yeah, he knows this guy.

He just doesn't know where from.

* * *

_"Citizen BC-F-34820-J-BLIP. Report to Military Organizer Isoda's office immediately. This is your final warning. Citizen BC-F-34820-J-BLIP."_

The short, immaculate, Asian woman paces the room. "Where is that girl?"

A man sits at the end of the table. His raven hair is combed back neatly. His onyx eyes glint cruelly. He is dressed in a professional, exquisitely tailored suit, the knot of a black tie pressed directly to his throat. His fingers are laced and let on the cool, black table, and a smirk plays on his pale lips. "It's fine that she hasn't shown herself to me by now. You may be incorrect, Airi, after all. And you know what happens to people who _lie_to me. I'm not going to have to _Demote_ you, will I?"

She pales, smiling nervously. "O-O-O-Of course not, sir."

The two are greeted by two Scarecrows walking in uniform into the room.

"Ms. Isoda, we found no trace of the subject in question. The last evidence we found of her was a hair sample in Hallway 5-R on Level 3."

"What?"

"Ms. Isoda, we believe that BC-F-34-"

"Our subject."

'Our subject - has escaped the premises of the building."

As she starts smiling maniacally, her eyes widening, her hands travel to her waist, to where a long, ornate knife sits. "Are you telling me that you _let_ my test escape?"

"I-I-I'm afraid so, ma'am."

She approaches one of the Scarecrows, the one who admitted the falsehood, and grips the back of his identity-protecting hood, pulling his head back. "Are you going to let this happen again?"

"_No... Ma'am..."_

"Good. And are you going to find her, and bring her to me, _alive?_"

"_Yes... Ma'am..."_

"Good."

She fists the hood a little more, and jerks the Scarecrow's head swiftly to the side. A sickening crack pulsates through the room, and as she lets go, the body falls to the ground, first on its knees, then, to its face. She turns to the other. "You are dismissed."

The Scarecrow delivers a curtly nod, and leaves the room.

The Asian woman turns to the suited man.

"You see, I know you're not going to Demote me. You know why? You might head this company. You might be my boss. But, you see, your army will always respond to me before you. If you so dare as lay a finger on me, hundreds of my soldiers will be on you in minutes. There will be no escape."

Her long, black fingernail presses into the _talk_ button of a Transmitter. "Cleanup in the office of Military Organizer Isoda is demanded. Immediately."

* * *

"Where are we going?"

I tear my eyes from the road to look at the girl next to me. Gunshot Melody's knees are tucked into her chest, her arms looped around her shins, her chin tucked down past her neck so only her woodsy eyes can stare out over her crunched form. The wind coming from the car's speed makes her hair billow back behind her ears. She presses herself a little closer together, and crunches her toes into the seat. She turns her head a little to look at me, and bites her lip.

"We're heading to Zone 1. Very close to the city. We're picking up someone-"

_Siren, where are you?_

Very close to Zone 1. Listen, um, Mad Gear? There's going to be another person traveling with us.

_Who?_

Her name's Gunshot Melody. She... I found her in the middle of the road. She was attacked by Dracs.

_Okay, then. Do you want me to stay in this shack, or should I run?_

Stay there, we're coming to get you.

_Alright, bye, Siren._

Bye, Mad Gear.

Gunshot's staring at me, incredulously. "What... Just happened?"

"I-I-I-I'm sorry, she was... Um... Talking... To me."

Her jaw drops. "The kid."

"Yeah."

She clears her throat. "Who are you, even?"

I smile a little. "Cyanide Siren."

"Well, that's given, I know that, but _who_ are you?"

I shrug. "A seventeen-year-old girl who's driving a car."

I feel her eyes boring into my neck murderously. I sigh.

"I'm a musician. I'm a singer. I'm horribly life-depreciating. A lot of the time, I wish that Dracs have killed me already. I'm only still alive because I couldn't leave my little sister like that. Let's see. I'm commonly called crazy. I'm considered a big sister to a lot of people. I'm a godmother to a child that I really hoped was never born because God knows what's gonna happen to that baby when she grows up. I'm a Freak. What the fuck else do you want?"

She uncurls herself a little so she can rearrange herself to face me. "You're... All of that?"

"Why, is it that much?"

"No, it's just... An odd mix of different things." She clears her throat. "What's your power... Oh, shit."

"What?"

I check into the rear-view mirror.

Oh.

Double shit.

I cross my right arm over my chest, find my gun, draw it, and hand the metal weapon to the girl in the passenger seat. "Do what you can."

She takes the gun in silent agreement, turns, and fires. While she doesn't hit anything, the bullet that she shot collides with the one shot by one of the Dracs, and a shower of light and danger erupts from the collision. She shoots again, this time at the wheel, and the car swerves, ducking off the side of Route Guano, and to its demise. A wave of heat bursts into my face as the inferno takes over the car, sending massive flares of inferno and smoke into the desert air.

"Does this car have a radio?" She asks, playing with the knobs desperately.

"Why, d'ya think that someone's gonna be playing your killing jam?"

_BAM! _

Someone's channel sticks into the radio, and a heavy, drum-laden tune blasts out. Gunshot Melody flings the gun into my lap, and holds out a hand to the speaker.

"Gunshot, what are you doing?"

I hear nothing.

It's like the world's noise has been put on pause. All I see is the mystery girl next to me squeeze her eyes shut as she holds her hands out to the other four Drac cars behind us. All I see are these delicate pulses through the air, like... Like... Like...

She's creating sonic booms.

All the cars begin to turn into each other, smashing together to form their own death, and she loosens her invisible grip.

My hearing comes back, hitting me like a train.

I keep my foot on the pedal. "What the _fuck_did you just do?"

She smiles. "I just saved your ass."

* * *

"I dunno how I do it. It started after the Rains, obviously. I was seven. I was listening to the radio, and I wanted it a little quieter, and then, it just..." She shakes her head. "It started as playing with volume. Up, down, louder, softer. I first thought that I could just mentally turn knobs on things. But that's when it became a weapon to me." She clears her throat. "I wasn't able to make big waves of sound at that point, just pinpricks, but somehow, I was able to make sound... _Solid._ I was able to make sound, and physically hurt people with it."

"That's what got you your name."

She nods. "Gunshot Melody, yeah. Um... After that happened, that's when I found I was able to make sonic booms. I was practicing out here, and... I just went deaf for a second, and I saw this, like, huge pulse through the air. It... It was frightening. I didn't want that power." She looks up at me, from where I'm assembling a fire out of dried sagebrush. "What about you? You said you were a Freak."

I spread a palm out to the tent-arranged brush. A corner alights with orange, and spreads fast through the dead plants. Gunshot's eyes widen.

"You... Control fire."

"Elements." I move my palm to face the ground. The dirty, yellow sand raises itself into the air, and as I twist my hand and arm, the stream of unstable earth moves with me. I relax my hand, and the sand falls around my feet. "Telekinesis." I hold a hand out to her hair, and a ribbon comes undone from a lock of blonde. I move it up through the air, swirl it through the dying light, imagining it to be a Chinese dragon, a mirage of normal, civilian life. I fly it back to Gunshot's hair, and it ties itself back.

Her jaw falls.

"I can do more, it's just... Too dangerous."

"Like, what? You could kill people?"

"Well, yeah, lightning tends to do that."

Her eyes widen just a little more, if that's possible. "...Lightning."

I sit down. "Don't ask."

We sit in silence for a little.

"So, you said you were a musician?"

I open my mouth, and start harmonizing. "You can only cry for so long, power only makes you feel so strong. Love died when death took her place, but we buried her in her favorite lace."

She starts singing the next verse. "I'm not your prison bitch, I'm not your ward, I'm not your servant and you're not my lord. See this barcode? It's not me, I can actually hear and can actually see."

"Take the aspirin, call me when you're fine, we'll preach your final words in time. There's the rope, make your noose, it's the only way to let yourself loose."

"I'm seeing red, or is that white? Hello, God, I'm following your light." She smiles, and stops singing. "I love that song. I love Poisonous as Hell. They're so talented, and they're only, like, sixteen. I heard that they're twins, though. It's a shame that they haven't put out anything in a year."

I ball my fists a little. "Yeah." I yawn. "Hey, I've been up for basically the last five nights. Do you mind if I crash?"

She yawns a little, too. "Sounds good."

As I shut my eyes, I already see his white irises.

* * *

"Run!"

The white-haired woman sprints out, two others in tow: another girl with bubblegum curls, and a taller guy with a highlighter yellow tie swinging around his neck. The three stop as they get far enough to watch the building explode. More jump out. Two women who cling together like they're conjoined. Another ushering three kids out. Two more men.

Careless Smiles breathes heavily. "_Where is he?_"

"Smiles, we couldn't find him."

She acknowledges the man in the leather jacket. "What? Metronome, you couldn't find your own bandmate? Your best friend?" She unties a black bandanna from her wrist, and winds it above her nose and mouth. "'M goin' in."

"Smiles, don't-"

"I'll be fine."

She runs into the inferno. Smoke stings her eyes and snakes up her nose. She swallows to suppress hacking coughs. "'Sado! 'Sado, where are you?"

No answer.

"Camisado!"

Still none.

"...Brendon?"

"Help!"

She runs towards where the voice came from.

His dark hair is tinged red from the environment. His black vest has been shredded. His top hat lies, untouched, a hand's distance away. Scorch marks travel up the fabric along his left leg, and fear courses through her heart to think of whatever happened to his actual _leg._

_"...Sarah... Help..."_

She bends down. "I'm coming to help, baby." She grasps the hat, slips the brim between her teeth, and sits the injured man up. When she finally props him up on two feet, he cries out, lifting his left leg up and leaning against her.

It seems like ages later when the two collapse in the sand, safe from the flames. Careless Smiles feels pain shooting up her body, _everywhere._ Just pain.

"We're gonna need a doctor, aren't we?"


	9. Chapter 9: And We Just Get Up And Go

**A/N: Yo, I'm back.**

**I'm very sorry I couldn't post last week. I think whoever reads this story by now knows that it's a little of a struggle for me to get my hands on a computer for enough time each day, so I couldn't write. I'm so sorry! I still love you all!**

***Ahem* So, I have some announcements. One: Turn Away is still up and running, but I MIGHT need another week, see above issue. Two: I'm sorry, but I STILL haven't finished the next chapter of Welcome... To Hell! I'm a little screwed on that. Three: Are any of you shippers? Because I have something in store, coming within this month... And Four: Are any of you ABSOLUTE RAGING Panic! fans? Because if you are, I have been working on a story of sorts with the lovely Inu-Chan the music friend. Look out for that, and in the meantime, check her stories out as well, that girl deserves more views on her stories! Do it. And Inu, I'm sorry if you're embarrassed by me shamelessly advertising you on this site.**

**Die with your mask on!**

**~Sunshine**

"I can't see where she is."

Skeleton Leopard opens his eyes, and leans back from his forearms, which had previously been placed on his knees.

A small, green-eyed girl curls her fingers around the mussed, braided buns atop her head. "Nothing?"

"Look, Angel, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I can't see her. It's like... She's off the face of the earth."

"You mean she's-"

"Oh, my God, Angel, no, Siren's not dead! We all know that she's too stubborn to die. She's a tough bitch, she's alright."

"Then _why can't you see her_?" The girl turns to another, roughly the same age, with fawn curls. "This is your fault, Missile Kid! You're the one who convinced her to go, since you knew where she went-"

"What are you talking about?" Missile Kid stands, crossing the Diner to make her way to the other ten-year-old, "Siren went on her own. She just trusted me enough to tell the rest of you."

"WHY THE HELL WOULD SHE TRUST YOU?"

A baby stirs from a makeshift cot on a table, and begins to cry. Jet Star hears the baby, and picks her up.

"Oh, God."

A boy with hair the color of dry leaves looks up from the booth surrounding the table. "Hold her against your chest and bounce her a little; it calms her down like clockwork."

The tall man does so.

Burned Paradise falls into a gurgling peace.

"How did you know that?"

Crimson smiles, almost innocently. "I know a lot of things."

"Huh." Jet Star seats himself in the seat across from the seven-year-old. "So, you're a Freak, right?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Whaddya do?"

"I... I dunno how to say it. It's like... Mind reading, I guess, but pictures. Like, I send people thoughts. Dreams. And I can see theirs. And I can send messages through dreams, but I've only done that a little. And I put stuff in their heads."

"Pretty cool, kid."

"Whaddabout you?"

"Naw. I stayed out of the Rains."

"Oh. Lucky."

"Hey, you have powers."

"Dracs don't hate you as much."

They turn when Angel starts yelling again.

"Leopard, just one more time. Try it."

The twenty-three year old sighs. "Alright, Angel. Once more."

As he leans into himself and concentrates, Crimson starts staring at him, frowning a little.

Jet Star's dark eyes pass between the two Freaks, and they widen in realization, as Skeleton Leopard sighs, saying, "I saw nothing."

The tall, curly-haired man leans over the table. "You're putting images in his head. You're disrupting his thoughts. You're infiltrating them so no one knows where Cyanide Siren went."

"Maybe."

"...Do you know where she is?"

He pulls out the same, innocent, smile. "I know a lot of things."

* * *

The boy steps into Zone 6. Finally.

He runs his gloved hand through his hair, his fingers catching on threads of black and white. His eyes blink, and he stares up at the crescent moon. His irises are the same shade as the sliver of heaven that hangs in the sky.

He turns around when he sees light.

A small, curvy woman wears red shorts, a black tee, and a zebra striped belt and converse. Her cherry-red hair is yanked into a high ponytail. A halo of light flickers around her.

"Who are you?" He asks.

She smiles. "That's irrelevant. I'm dead, aren't I?"

"The Dead can be honored, too."

She lets her eyes shut a little in understanding. "For the first living person who can see me, you're very considerate. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Who are you?"

She bites her lip, slips her hands into her pockets. "They called me Savannah Shootout. I'd prefer Daisy."

"Daisy was your real name."

"Dracs aren't after me anymore, so why bother using my Killjoy name?"

"Touche."

"Whaddabout you?"

He clears his throat. "Shotgun Sinner."

"Were you caught in the Rains, maybe?" She smirks.

He rolls his eyes. "No, really?"

"Well, I've heard of people being able to see The Dead without having to be blessed by the motherfucking

Rains."

"Bogus. It's stupid. I never believed it."

"That's probably why you manifested with these powers."

"Mmn. Were you a Freak-"

"No. Only young idiots like you bothered to run outside in the Rains."

"I've heard of older Killjoys with powers."

"Probably going after their kids. I knew that there was something wrong with that water. It wasn't like the Monsoons. It even looked different."

"Fair point. How old were you when you died?"

"Twenty-five."

"Are there more spirits around here?"

"D'ya know about the Mailbox?"

He scoffs. "I talk to the dead. Of course I know about it."

"But have you been there?"

"No... I was trying to get there."

"I can lead you there. It'll take about a week walking, if you wanna sleep at night."

* * *

Gunshot stands up in the car and practically screams along to the song that God-knows-which-DJ is

playing right now. I recognize it, vaguely. Something about ice cream and hugs and beer and old school metal and holiday cheer, nonsense shit like that. It's a very upbeat tune. She grins madly into the wind, her sandy hair whipping, the red bows threatening to come apart and fly off.

_Siren, is that you?_

I know the city is really close, by now. I can see the break of desert dust in the distance.

So Mad Gear must be close, too.

_Siren, I see a car with kinda pink tires, is that you?_

Yeah, baby.

_I'm running out._

I see a small, white-clad form running into the middle of Route Guano.

I've never slammed brakes so fast.

Gunshot flies back into her seat, her body making a _smack_ as it hits the faux-leather, her eyes widening in slight confusion. "Wha... HOLY SHIT!"

The form jumps into the backseat (where'd she come from?) and looks up. "Turn around _right now._Dracs are coming in for another sweep. I think they're trying to find me. Or us."

I catch 'Dracs', 'sweep', 'us', and 'right now'. It's enough to make me accelerate, pull a U-turn, and drive the other way.

I'm looking through the rear-view too much.

"Both of you. I need to keep my eyes on the road. Watch the back."

They both turn around, but I watch the mirror anyways.

I catch glimpses of the girl. She has cropped, brown-black hair and very pale skin that seemingly blends in with her dusted white uniform. Her face is turned away from me.

So _this_ is the mysterious Mad Gear.

A little girl, curled up into fetal position, fingertips resting over temples in concentration. A little girl, dressed in dirty pants and matching jacket, dirt smeared over her hands.

She unravels and sighs, falling into the seat. "We can stop worrying."

I still stare at her through the mirror. "What? Whaddya mean?"

I hear the smile in her voice. "I got into the leading Scarecrow's head. They're turning around. They might not be so pardoned by Airi, but who knows? Maybe Korse could defend me."

Gunshot Melody stiffens next to me. "Korse? The Exterminator?"

"...Yeah?"

"Why do you say that he'll defend you?"

She shrugs, still looking away. "Korse has been like a dad to me since my parents died when I was three. He's the only one who really knows about me being a Freak. He encouraged me to use them on... Certain employees. He's my inspiration."

Gunshot curls herself up, burying her face into her knees. "He almost killed me."

Mad Gear stays silent, until she meets my eyes through the mirror. "Thank you, Siren."

"You're welcome-"

I keep myself from gasping.

Her face is interesting. It's oddly developed for a ten year old, high cheekbones, a straight nose, and full, feminine lips already setting in. It's a little oval, with a defined chin and sharp eyebrows. It falls into a long neck and a wave of dark hair.

But her eyes...

I've seen those eyes before. I've seen them at the diner.

But her eyes...

I know them.

* * *

Relience sits up. He winces, clutching the bound wound on his chest.

"You really should stop trying to sit up on your own. Put that back at least a week." Newsagogo leans over the injured man, and helps prop him up, stuffing another ripped pillow behind him.

"I can't lie down anymore."

She squeezes his hand. "I'm sorry." She looks away.

"Are you..."

"I'm fine."

He sighs. "Gogo."

She smiles a little, despite what's in her head. Since this boy woke up in the former gas station five days ago, he's taken to calling her that. "It's cuter," he said as he smiled, a hardly noticeable blush creeping onto his face as he said it. She liked Relience's blush. It only bruised a little of his cheeks, but it made is ears turn scarlet. It was a little adorable.

She bites her lip. "It's... Been a year since my best friend died."

Relience's eyebrows furrow, and he squeezes her hand back. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright." Newsagogo sighs. "Her name was Gina. She was known as Supercentarian." Relience's eyebrows travel up his forehead, and she glares. "Don't ask about the name." She takes another deep breath. "We met during the Fires, we hid in the same shelter and shit, but... She was killed in a raid." She laughs bitterly. "God, she was crazy. She dyed her hair blue and her eyebrows magenta, and she wore some weird stuff, like, fucking grass skirts, and tried making homemade beer once. But I loved her like a sister."

"She sounds awesome."

"She was."

They sit in silence. They meet each other's eyes.

"Hey, I hope you get better."

He smiles. "Thanks."

As Newsagogo gets up, she cups his cheek. "Good luck," she whispers against his ear, before pressing her lips to his. The kiss is silent and quick, but it leaves both blushing redder than blood.

She flees the room, leaving him staring at the blank wall, hurting and confused as hell.

* * *

"Good morning, sir," the dark haired woman comments, setting a sterile cup of plain, black, coffee in front of the immaculate man.

"Fetch me my breakfast," is all he says in return.

She straightens her black pencil skirt, letting a little air escape from her nostrils before she clacks her way on black pumps to the kitchen, placing a plate of cheese, pepper, and onion omelet with perfectly buttered toast into her hand. She carries it out, sets it in front of him, on his immaculate, onyx table. He hardly does so much as grunt.

Christa's been working for The CEO for six years now. Since she showed up, nowhere to go, fresh picked from the desert.

They didn't put her on pills. She knew too much about the Killjoys, about their leader, the man that Airi had called Dr. Death Defying. She said he kind of looked like this guy she knew through her husband. But when they asked her about him... She'd just break down.

They made a deal: work for the head of it all. Tell us everything you know. You keep your mind.

And she took it.

But they never tell her anything.

She clears the table as he left for the Headquarters, setting them in the kitchen for the cook.

As she goes back to straighten whatever papers had been left, a small paper slips out.

XmpkH45Re.

The code.

The _fucking code._

Christa leaves the room in a hurry, for the office.

She knows every code except the one for the computer, by now. Disarm the door, the fences, the cameras.

Now, she has the key.

She makes it in, closes the door in case the other maid comes by, and starts typing the code in.

A whole database is opened.

It's got every Citizen in all of BL/ind's cities, every official, every Drac and Scarecrow, all listed with their height, weight, where and who they live with, their assignment, even their names before the Fires. Another database reveals Killjoys by the thousand. Every known one, which one's a DJ, a Freak, a rebel, a runaway, who they are and how important they are to the culture.

She first gets something off her chest. "Search Dr. Death Defying."

The database narrows, until a little window pops up on the side. Search: Doctor Death Defying. Results: 1.

She clicks.

The page explodes with pictures, notifications, history, yada yada yada. She reads through it.

Doctor Death Defying. Status: Alive. Occupation: Killjoy DJ, starter of the Killjoy Movement. Pre-Cleansing Name: Steve Montano (Steve Righ?).

No way, she thinks, Steve?

She scrolls down. There are mentions of who he was associated with, of Mindless Self Indulgence. Mostly, it's about how he's escaped from BLI prisons twice, and the security measures taken in return.

Twice. That motherfucker.

Then, it's the real business.

"Search Ray Toro."

No matches.

"Search Ray Toro."

None.

"Search Ray Toro!"

_Your server is confused. Change settings from exact matches to possible matches?_

"Yes," she breathes.

Search: Ray Toro. Results: 1.

She clicks with unnatural desperation.

Jet Star.

Her brow furrows in confusion. What?

She reads.

Jet Star. Status: Alive. Occupation: Killjoy minor leader, member of Killjoy cult icon group The Fabulous Killjoys. Pre-Cleansing Name: None. Believed to be Raymond Toro.

_Believed to be Raymond Toro._

She looks at the picture, the shady fuzz of it. She gasps.

He's alive.


	10. Chapter 10: Building A Coffin Your Size

**A/N: Wow, two posts in a night!  
**

**So, here's another story that I haven't updated in a while. Because I am on a ROLL right now. *Starts dancing like FFnet is a 70's disco***

**So, a few little notes on this story. THE END WILL HAVE YOU BEING LIKE 'WHOAMAHGAWD!' Maybe. It's the most dramatic thing I've written in a while, though it's not like any soap opera that my grandmother watches. And the Never Have I Ever scene was inspired by a similar scene in The Sharpest Lives by the lovely and talented Inu-Chan the music friend (you go, Inu!). Go read her story, too, it's good and it features amazing people.**

**Also, so I can rant, Moonray and I went mall-loitering yesterday! Whoo! And I got a dress that was on sale for really effing cheap! And it makes me look like a dark Cinderella, so yay for Brother's Grimm! If Cinderella was theirs. And purple eyeliner! Okay, my squealing is done.**

**Stay sexy!**

**~Sunshine**

"Why did we get sent on this, of all people?" The Paintball Sensei tucks her knees into her chest. "Two _kids_ who've hardly been here a few weeks. What the fuck?" She sighs. "I miss my baby. I miss her."

The green-haired boy in the driver's seat of the age-old van nods, reaching his arm across the console to curl around her arm. "I do, too."

It's silence for a few lone seconds.

"Why did you lie?"

She bites her lip. "What are you talking about?"

"You couldn't have just said Eden was _ours_ right when we met everyone at the Diner?"

"Holy fuck, you sound just like Siren right now." They both tense at the name of the missing member of their group. "She yelled at me the night we got here for it. Are you two, like, having a mind meld or something? Because that would really help in finding her."

"Christ, Akira, are you serious? Mind meld? With Siren? We try and kill each other on a weekly basis."

"Or kill Dracs together, when you two can actually vent your energies." She smiles despite herself. "I miss her too."

The silence is a lot more comfortable now.

Until, of course, it's shattered by the kicking sand parting, almost fantastically, to reveal a group of people.

There are a few kids, mostly adults, though. Four of them don dirtied, torn, long since worthless BL/ind civilian suits, the rest in stereotypical Killjoy gear. All of their clothes are charred black in areas. The two that limp and lean on everyone else in the walking caravan have the most burns. One of the _more_ injured ones, the girl, hops on one foot.

"OH, MY GOD, NEON, PULL OVER RIGHT NOW!"

He doesn't need the minuscule, purple-clad girl next to him to work on instinct; he pulls the brightly colored van off _this Some-Route_ to stop in front of the group, who have noticed said wheeled vehicle.

Sensei leans back to open the vans' door, and yells, "Geddin, all of you!"

* * *

It's dark when we reach Zone 4.

I organize a pile of dead brush when we stop, parking the car half on the road, half off. As the pile becomes a loose, dry pinnacle my height, I stretch my palm out towards it, and let a steady, white stream of fire strike the pile.

I really do enjoy watching how the flames lick up and down the brittle sticks.

Mad Gear stares intently at my hand for a few moments, how I guide it through the air to control the fire. After a few seconds, she turns to Gunshot Melody, and asks, "So where're you from?"

She knows what the little girl is asking, but she shrugs anyways. "Zone 12. Far out."

"Yeah, but where are you _from_?"

"Nowhere."

"...Damn, are you really this closeted about your past? 'Cause-"

"_Oh, my God, shut up, you little shit. I don't wanna talk about it._"

Mad Gear backs up, holding her hands out in surrender. "Okay, fine, jeez."

It's silence for a minute before the minuscule girl turns to me. "What about you?"

I shrug. "Whaddya wanna know?"

"Um... Where are you from?"

"Droughthaven. Well... Colorado."

"...Colorado?"

"You don't know where that is?" I pause. "Or, rather, was."

"No." Mad Gear shrugs. "I'm told nothing about what happened before the Fires. All I know was that the world was better before BL/ind took over." She smiles sadly. "It's not true, is it?"

I shrug. "That's debatable. As an individual, yes, my life was better before the Fires, but as a world in the whole?" I laugh bitterly. "Either way, the whole planet's always been screwed. We've always been trying to kill each other. So, my answer is yes, but no. Did that make any sense?"

She frowns. "Actually... Yeah."

"I'm sorry I'm leading this conversation on a major tangent."

"Oh, no. It's not a problem. But... Like... Who did you travel with? Who were your friends? What was your favorite food?"

"Do you want me to answer those same questions, or something of the like?"

"Um... Similar, I guess."

I smile sadly. I can feel my expression dripping nostalgia. "Um... Where do I start? I... My favorite place to hang out was this playground that was next to some middle school, if you're curious. I... I used to go lay out in the front yard, just before a storm, in the summer, and I'd wait for the first drops to hit, just so I could feel it on my skin, before going inside. It always... It always made me feel clean."

Mad Gear's eyes widen. "Wow."

I blush a little. Another bout of silence rocks the camp.

"What about you?" I ask.

Mad Gear's hazel-green-gold eyes narrow. "Huh?"

"You were saying that Korse was like a father to you?"

"Oh! Yeah." Mad Gear clears her throat. "I don't remember my parents, but Airi told me that they were killed during the Fires. I was three when I was taken in by BL/ind. I don't even know why they wanted me then, my powers had hardly developed then." She clears her throat. "I was raised by the company with Gracie. We found our powers, together. I could see the present, she the future. Later, it became mind control for me, and seeing split-second decisions for her. Korse, though, was the only person with authority who would treat us, instead of property, as young girls. He treated us as his little girls. He told us stories, and morals, and lessons."

She pauses.

"And?"

Her voice is down to a whisper. "In the dark, he'd hold us both close and say, too light for the microphones to catch, to not listen to Airi. To only trust ourselves with our lives. To know when they're watching closely. And... He... He... He told us to get out when we could."

I can hear her tears.

"Gracie left when we were eight. I'm getting out now, and... I don't know if that's too late or not. Because I don't know if we can be able to get any resistance against them. Because too many people didn't get out." She chokes on her breath. "Too many people couldn't get out in time."

* * *

We're in Zone 5 by nightfall the next night. Cherri's playing some Jack Johnson on this Zone's radio. I park the car on the side of the Route, and we all sit in the car.

"What now?" Mad Gear asks.

I shrug. "Pass the time?"

Gunshot gasps, suddenly. "Let's play Never Have I Ever!"

"Oh, God," I mutter.

"What's that?" Mad Gear asks, instead.

Gunshot sighs, a little exasperated, but grins, anyway. "How you play is everyone goes around in a circle, saying something you've never done. If you have done it, then you put a finger up on one of your hands. When all your fingers have been raised... I don't know. I don't remember what happens. But it's fun!"

I roll my eyes. "Whatever." I shrug with Mad Gear, but we put two fists out in front of us anyways.

"Alright, I'll start," Gunshot says. "Never have I ever... Killed thirty Dracs on my own, in less than half an hour."

I stick my thumb out. "Lightning, bitches."

Mad Gear hides a gasp; Gunshot gives me a dirty look.

"I'll go!" Mad Gear says. "Um... Never have I ever... Been to Zone 12."

Gunshot releases an index finger from her fist. "From there."

"Alright," I say, "Never have I ever..." I look at the little girl in the back seat, smiling as I jut my chin at her. "Been inside BLI's headquarters." She frowns, crinkling her nose as she sticks a finger out. "Hey, that was funny."

Gunshot cuts in. "Alright. Never have I ever requested a DJ to play Justin Bieber."

We all grimace. "Sorry," I say.

"Never have I ever... Um..." The hazel-eyed girl grins. "Kicked a Drac in the balls."

My jaw drops, despite myself raising another finger. "Where did you learn to say that?"

She shrugs. "I would listen to Killjoy prisoners. They're really funny. They're also the bravest people I've ever known to exist. They're unbreakable."

Gunshot and I smile. "Got that right," she whispers.

"Alright, my turn." I clear my throat. "Never have I ever, um, tried tap dancing."

Gunshot bashfully raises a finger; Mad Gear and I start laughing maniacally.

"Shut up," she says, "I was alone in a warehouse, and I was bored, and that's the kind of thing that happens, alright? God. Never have I ever tried doing the worm."

"Oh, shit," I mutter, putting a finger up.

"Haha."

Mad Gear laughs at both of us. "Never have I ever sung in public."

I raise my finger. "I was well known around Droughthaven." The blonde girl laughs. "Never have I ever attempted to... Try on lingerie." As Mad Gear_ oohs,_ Gunshot, while raising a finger, blushes a little. "No way!"

"I tried it on once!" She yells. "It was a pair of panties and a push-up. And it wasn't to make me feel, I dunno, sexy."

"Then why did you wear it?"

She shrugs. "It made me feel like I was going to kick someone's ass. Like I could fucking ghost them. Really, there's some kind of attitude change when your wearing something you usually wouldn't."

I nod, thoughtfully, no longer thinking about the suggestive thought I was trying to instigate. "I guess that makes sense." I share a smile with her. "Your turn."

She smirks, a little nervously, and says, "Never have I ever lost my virginity."

Mad Gear stares, timidly, at Gunshot Melody. I timidly raise my finger, trying to not get caught, but both of them notice it, jump up, and yell in unison, "NO WAY!"

I blush, almost suffocated by it. "Don't judge me. There were people going to what might have been Texas, and they were staying at our warehouse, and they had booze, and..." I cough. "I'm just glad I didn't get pregnant from the experience. Please, Mad Gear, say another thing, take the attention away from me."

"Alright, fine. Never have I ever tried to use large explosives, like, I dunno, grenades, to kill Dracs."

The fourteen-year-old slides another finger out of her fist. "They don't call me _Gun_shot Melody for nothing."

I laugh a little. "Never have I ever... Played Truth or Dare with a DJ." I see Gunshot raise another finger. "You've done nearly everything, haven't you?"

"No. Never have I ever played guitar." I groan, holding another finger up. "I'd love to learn, but-"

"I'll teach you," I say.

She gasps. "You will?"

"Sure, why not?"

Her dark eyes widen, her mouth begins to split into a grin. "...Wow."

I grin at her.

Mad Gear shifts a little in her seat. "Alright. Never have I ever... Had a sibling."

Gunshot lets loose another finger. "I haven't seen my brother in a few months, though. He's staying with a DJ."

They both notice my raised finger, my hung head.

"...Siren?"

"What?"

"You had a sibling?" I nod, but don't say anything. "Oh, God, did he-"

"Don't. Say. Anything."

Gunshot touches my forearm. "Cyanide, it's alright. You can tell us-"

I look up, feeling the warm, salty tears stain my skin. "Don't even say anything, alright? God, he didn't deserve it! He died trying to save me, my friends! My _own twin!"_

As their jaws drop, I climb out of the car, and run.

* * *

_"Exterminators Daed and Korse, and Draculoid Units 24-C through 25-A report to the North Ward on the fourteenth floor of the C building, right now."_

Korse knows what those quarters are, exactly. So he doesn't hesitate to run.

The room has no traces of Bandit, whatsoever. Her mattress has no evidence of her sleeping; the sheets are still made from yesterday. Clothes are all clean, washed, folded, hanged. Even the silver bauble earrings that sat on the vanity, which neither girl never wore, are gone.

Daed is in the middle of it all, pacing the room in utter frustration, as if her growls will make anything better. She wears a perfectly tailored, gray silk shirt, with white tie, black pants, and black boots. Her dyed white hair stands in subtle spikes against her skin.

"Korse! Where were you?" She demands.

"A building. I made it here as quickly as I could."

"Not quickly enough. She disappeared!"

"She didn't disappear, Daed, you just can't find her."

"Shut up. We have a problem. A problem that's ten years old, dark haired, and reckless. Tell me, Korse, do you know where the girl is?"

"I don't."

"Well, find out soon, because this can't reach the CEO. You got that?"

"Oh, of course, Daed."

"Fine. I'm going to check footage, see if I can see when that stupid little rat ran off. Stay here, find anything, alright?"

"As usual, Daed. Take the Dracs with you, they will not be of my assistance."

She nods, staring coldly. "Very well."

As the party leaves, Korse strides to the vanity, and picks out the paper he saw slid between the surface and the mirror.

Dear Korse,

I'm sorry this was so sudden, but so was Gracie leaving. But I had to, and you know why. I didn't know what else to do, they we're going to turn me into a test subject, just like my sister. Don't deny it, you know it, too.

I love you, Korse. You're like a father to me.

-Bee

Oh, thank God.

* * *

Shotgun Sinner kicks the dust. Daisy floats next to him.

"You know, you can attract attention like that," she says.

"So?"

"We're halfway there."

"Cool." He spots a softer-looking piece of earth. "Mind if I sleep?"

"Go ahead. I'll keep watch."

He stops at the earth, lays down, and settles, closing his eyes.

Immediately, he starts concentrating. _Give me the healer. The protector._

He sees a variety of different images. Two kids, with chestnut hair and emerald eyes, running, hiding, leading a similarly featured child, growing up, shooting Dracs. He always makes shields. She always attacks from behind the barrier.

Then, he sees a van. The boy dies, saying something to the girl as blood flows freely from him.

When he opens his eyes, Daisy's gone. In her place is a boy.

He has dark, red-brown hair, falling in his eyes, combed through with touches of pure, royal blue. A pair of black Ray-Bans sit on his head. He wears a dark blue shirt, with a black bomber jacket on top, sleeves torn out to form the garment into a vest. He wears green denim pants, severely dirtied and scuffed, and black converse with the toes painted bright orange. A gun, painted blue with two stripes, green and orange, racing up the side, sits at his hip. He has brilliant green eyes set into his tanned face. He looks like he could be about sixteen.

"Who are you?"

He smirks a little. "Hydrogen Hellhound. Or Elliot. Whichever you prefer."

"Elliot. And... Are you the guy I always see dying?'

He nods. "Sorry, dude, you didn't have to see that. That was a terrible death."

"It's alright." Sinner sits up. "Who are you?

"The healer."

"But why do I always see that girl with you whenever I ask for the healer?"

Elliot sits down, and looks at the pale-eyed boy. "Sinner, there's a special thing with twins. We know each other. Like you wouldn't be able to understand. We figure each other out. We're always at each other's sides. We know what the other's going to do. Essentially, we share a common bond that, in a way, makes us one entity. Especially in the rare case of my sister and I. And that tie never really breaks, not until there's no ends to tie it to, when we both die. It can feel so weak that it's almost gone, but eventually, it mends. That's what happened with us. When I died, that tie nearly disappeared, but it didn't. And while my sister isn't feeling it yet, that tie is mending."

"If you're saying you're coming back from the dead, you are absolutely fucking crazy."

"I'm not. I'm saying that I'm letting a little part of myself become my sister, too. The part that you're looking for."

Shotgun Sinner looks at Elliot, confusion plastered onto his face. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that my sister, Sinner, is becoming what we both were, the ultimate fighter. My sister is becoming a warrior. My sister... Is becoming the healer. The protector."


	11. Chapter 11: With Your Arms Raised High

**A/N: That chapter literally took months to write. I suck.**

**Anyways, enjoy shizz and wonderful stuff. I dunno. I'm drinking tea and writing and avoiding a huge project for my Geography class.**

**And shoutout to the amazing Inu-Chan the music friend because SHE'S AWESOME for staying up this late on Twitter trying to figure out what I'm ratting on out. THIS IS IT, GURL.**

**And, of course, the usual dedication to not only Inu, but also Kira, Melon, and Moonray. Love you beautiful chicas!**

**~Sunshine**

"Um... Relience?"

The dark haired man looks up. "Gogo, what's up?"

She bites her lip. "I was wondering... How's your wound?"

He shrugs. "The bandages hurt like hell, but I think they've stopped bleeding." He holds his hands up to her. "Help me. I wanna walk."

She shifts on her feet nervously. "Relience, I don't think that's a good idea, you can hardly sit-"

"Gogo?"

His dark eyes convey too much desperation.

"Gogo, please."

She huffs. "Alright, but if I drop you, you can't blame me, big piece of dead weight."

She sits next to him on the bed, and slides one arm around his waist, the other hooked around his shoulder. She tries to lift, huffs, and loosens. "Shit, you are way heavier than when I first found you, can you really gain that much weight from having wounds heal?"

"I dunno."

Newsagogo sighs. "Alright. On the count of three, but you're gonna have to help. Or try."

"I... Okay."

"You ready?" He nods. "Okay. One... Two... Three!"

She stands up off the bed, dragging him with her, and suddenly, Relience is rising from the bed with the character of a spring, snapping into a locked-knee position. He winces as he lets his knees unbuckle, but turns to Newsagogo and saying, "I'm fine, just continue carrying me."

She nods, and steps. He slides his right foot forward with hers, and staggers to lift his left foot, but it swings beyond his right foot, planting itself into the dirty linoleum floor. He exhales.

"Are you-"

"I'm fine."

One. Foot. In. Front. Of. The. Other.

"You're... Walking."

He nods. "I am."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees an open door, the bent over form of Arms Dealer as he fiddles with a few controls on a board. He mumbles some nonsense into a microphone, and leans back in his chair. Relience feels that he's staring up at he ceiling, imagining things splashed on the long-since-white surface.

He falls against the wall. "It's tiring."

"Do you want to rest?"

He nods. "Just for a bit, though." He breathes for a long minute, in through the nose, out through the mouth. "Alright. To the door. I wanna see outside."

He continues walking, walking. She places herself a little more under his arm, forcing him to lean against her.

He sees light.

"We... We made it." She sees the dirt on his face getting cut by gentle, gentle tears. He leans his head against her shoulder, and lets himself get pulled into a hug.

"Justin," he whispers.

Newsagogo pulls her head back to look at him. "What?"

"Justin. Justin York. My name."

She smiles shakily. "Sage Anderson."

When they're pulled apart from a small kiss, it's not because of them.

Roar. Grumble. Scream.

They look through the window, to see three men frantically shooting at a pod of Dracs. One of them gets shot in his arm. He stumbles back, and as his dark hair swishes away, he sees the mass of a tattoo on his neck. The other two, one with cherry red hair, the other in a similarly colored jacket, turn to him, screaming.

Arms Dealer runs out from down the hall, yelling, "Newsagogo! What the hell's happening? I heard an explosion-"

"People. Outside. Getting attacked. I can't help because..."

"Let me go," Relience says. "I'll stay against the door, you fight."

"Are you sure? I can't-"

"Gogo."

She sighs. "What?"

"You can."

He pushes himself off her, and falls back against the wall. His knees fold, and he slides into a sitting position on the floor. "Go."

* * *

_Siren._

Go away, Mad Gear.

_Siren, where did you go?_

Don't find me. Please.

_No can do. Where are you?_

Find me.

_I could if you told me where you were._

No thank you.

_You realize I can hear you?_

Doesn't mean you can find me.

I don't hear a response.

I start crying.

Why, why, why, Elliot? What the fuck. Of all things.

I hate Mad Gear for asking. I hate Leopard, Neon, and Sensei telling me to get over it. I hate Crimson for saying nothing about it. I hate Angel for getting over it. I hate the stupid excuse for rebels for causing that Drac sweep. I hate those Dracs for killing Elliot. I hate Elliot for dying.

I hate myself for leaving him behind. For letting him die.

I can only hate.

I continue crying, my sobs getting louder and louder.

I feel someone hugging me. "Siren, it's alright."

"Go away, Gunshot."

"No. Not until you come back with us."

"Please, Gunshot. Leave me here. I wanna die."

"No, you don't."

"He's gone, you don't understand. I'm never getting my brother back."

"But he never left."

"Bullshit."

"No, he's with you. He'll always be with you. No one just dies, Siren. He's here."

"Thanks a fucking lot, hon."

"Siren, think about him. Would your brother want to see you like this? Would he let you just run away and cry? Would he let you just die? You're a Killjoy, Siren. None of us just die, not for anything."

_Not for anything._

_"Elliot," I whisper through the dark._

_"Yeah, Nay?"_

_"What would happen if we just... Died?"_

_"What are you saying, like, Dracs got us?"_

_"Well, yeah, but no. What if just anyone killed us?"_

_I hear his determine in the dark, in his quivering voice. "I won't let them."_

_"Yeah, but-"_

_"Naomi."_

_"What?"_

_"I won't let them, we won't let them. Would you let yourself die?"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Would you let them kill you? Or would you fight, would you make sure they didn't?"_

_"I'd fight, but what if I can't fight anymore-"_

_"There's no such thing as not being able to fight anymore. You can always fight more. For your life. We're Killjoys now, Nay, we don't die."_

_I nod, knowing he can't see my head moving. "I guess."_

_"Goodnight. Cyanide Siren._"

"Cyanide Siren!"

I see Gunshot's woodsy, dark eyes boring into mine. Her blonde locks fly everywhere.

"Yeah?"

"Are you alright? you just spaced for a minute."

"...I'm fine."

"You ready?"

"Maybe."

"Just maybe?" She asks.

I nod. "Just maybe."

We start walking back towards the car.

"You were Poisonous As Hell, weren't you? You and your brother." I nod. "So there's nothing left of it, right? It's gone." Another silent nod. "I'm sorry-"

"Melody, there's nothing to be sorry about."

She nods. "Right, but..." Almost like she's erasing her actions, she shakes her head. "Nevermind."

"What?"

"Nothing. I was going to say I'm sorry your twin died, but if there's nothing to be sorry about-"

"Hey, he died, didn't he? What's done is done. God is almighty, he giveth with one hand and he taketh with the fucking other. There's nothing I could have done." Gunshot's lips purse into a thin line. "Hey, I'm sorry if that offended you-"

"No, there's nothing to be sorry for."

We walk in deafening silence. The car's shining, multi-colored form glints upon the horizon.

"Hey," I say, "I'm sorry, I'm being a complete bitch right now." I stop, outstretch my arms. "Hug?"

She accepts. "I'm sorry."

We peel away and start again at a quicker pace towards the car.

"So," Gunshot Melody says, "Zone 6, yes?"

'Yeah, we should be there this afternoon."

* * *

Angel, Leopard, Crimson, Missile, and Jet Star look up.

The tiny, wing-donning girl stands, and storms towards me. "You dumb _bitch_, you could have died! We couldn't find you, you didn't say anything-"

"So this is you're sister," Gunshot comments.

Angel turns, giving the fourteen year old her classic dirty look. "Who the hell are you?"

"Wow, you two are actually very similar."

"No, seriously, who are you?"

Gunshot smiles. "Gunshot Melody of Zone 12, at your service."

"Wonderful," Angel spits, and turns back to me. "What the actual _fuck_, Siren? You disappear without a trace, for _two weeks_, and then come back with some blonde chick?"

"Okay, yeah, your sister is a little shit, sorry."

"Oh, I am?"

Gunshot crosses her arms. "Yeah, you are. Your sister saved my life, the least you could do is be polite."

It shuts her up pretty damn fast.

I lean over and whisper to Gunshot. "Someone needed to tell her."

"You're welcome."

Missile stands up, crosses the room, and tugs Angel's hand. "Angel, that was really obnoxious."

"Well- I- Um- Uh-"

Missile looks up at me, smiling. "Siren, how was your trip?"

To mimick her, I wear a shit-eating grin. "It was wonderful! Have you met Gunshot Melody yet?"

Gunshot catches on, smiling all-too-wide and reaching out a hand to shake. "Hello!"

The two shake hands, exaggerated, swinging their arms up and down in a wave of sorts. "It's a pleasure to meet you!"

"Same!"

I see Leopard stand, a tangled mass of growing baby bouncing in his arms. "Nice to know that you're making friends, but seriously. Siren, what were you doing? You scared us shitless." Paradise yowls. "Oh, hush, kid."

The door creaks open, and a dark haired girl slides in with her no-longer-white clothes and slightly feral eyes. "So this is the Diner."

Missile squeals, letting go of Angel.

Suddenly, the two, bouncing ten-year-olds are the only people in the room, the rest of us dumbstruck as they launch into a flurry of rapid-fire recounting of the last two years, complete with hugs, exclamations, and a few tears.

I suddenly realize that no one's here.

"Hey, Leopard?" I call, "Where is everyone?"

He sighs. "Come with me."

I hear Gunshot make a hesitant sound next to me. Leopard sighs, points to her, and says, "you too."

He walks us through the diner, past squeaking, sand-stained linoleum and cracking pleather booths, in through the swinging doors of the kitchen.

"Everyone's been searching for you, Siren."

"...What?"

Leopard rolls his eyes. "Jeez, you're dense." He sighs again, this time much heavier. "Party, Ghoul, and Kobra went towards Zones 10 and 11, looking. Neon and Sensei were right behind them, but they buzzed in this morning, they're coming straight back. Refugees. They say their safe house got set on fire."

"...Shit."

"Yeah, right?"

"Wait." Gunshot Melody makes a sound that's somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle, looking at me and shaking her head. "Why would everyone go after you? Why would all the people in this place just drop everything to find one person? I mean, they'll turn up, right?"

"Well..." Leopard shrugs. "I might have exaggerated a bit. I mean, we were running real low on supplies. Specifically, meds and gauze. You were just an extra worry that gave us the kick in the ass to move."

"Oh, thank you."

"We love you too, dear." His brief smile fades off. "But seriously, You vanish into thin air for two weeks. Missile Kid tells us after the first _nine days_, chris'sakes, that you've gone to find someone, and then you show up with a fourteen year old with a limp-"

"-It's healing! I got grazed in the leg!"

"-and a ten year old that Missile hasn't stopped jumping on as of yet, so would you please tell me what the hell happened?"

I sigh, looking down at my feet. I watch my toes twitch inside my shoes for a few seconds.

I feel Gunshot's hand on my shoulder, her hair grazing my cheek, her lips close to my ear. "You should probably tell him. Just saying."

I huff. "Um. Okay. Okay. Sure. You know what?" I slump my shoulders. "Yeah."

"...So?"

I shrug. "Okay, so maybe a week after we got here, sometime either before or after that, someone started talking to me in my head."

"...In your head."

"Yes. She said that she was Missile Kid's sister. And she said that she was leaving BL/ind's headquarters. And she needed someone to pick her up. And she said she knew she could trust me to get her."

"So you didn't question it and you left. That's so _stupid,_ Siren, we thought you were dead!"

"Of course you thought I was dead, look at how we live! And I saved someone's life, thank you! Why are even arguing? I saved someones _life, _Leopard. Two people's lives, actually. You're welcome."

"...She actually did." Gunshot grimaces tiredly. "Siren found me in the middle of Route Guano, bleeding and unconscious. If she didn't find me..." She shrugs, though the movement seems a little bit aggressive. "I dunno where I'd be right now. Just a corpse. A ghost."

His lips are about to form something, but he swallows the words instead.

"You got that right," Gunshot spits. She turns around, shouldering my arm. "C'mon, Siren, let's go."

I bite my lip, feeling a little guilty about leaving Leopard alone, but Gunshot looks angered. I hand the blonde a fleeting look, and follow the fourteen-year-old outside.

She's no where in the main part of the Diner. I scan the group of people. Mad Gear and Missile Kid still look like they're catching up, but somehow, Angel's managed to make her way into the group. Crimson is in a corner, playing with Paradise. I catch Jet Star's eyes; he nods, understanding, from the corner of the room, and nudges his chin to the door.

I find her in front of the diner, walking out into the asphalt, crossing her arms as she storms away.

"Gunshot!" I start to run after her. "Gunshot... Melody!"

She turns. "...Hey, Siren."

I brake myself to a halt, my heels kicking up dust. "What happened back there? Are you okay?"

She shrugs. "I'm alright, Siren." She huffs. "He just had no right to go ripping on you like that. That wasn't fair. Seriously. You saved my life, you fucking _drove out_ to go find Mad Gear and bring her back, and hell, you can protect yourself! It's not like he had to worry about you."

"...Actually, he did."

The confident smile that Gunshot's feeding me starts to fall off her face. "...What?"

I sigh, touch her back, and point with my shoulder. "Walk with me. There's something I need to tell you."

She nods, furrowing her eyebrows, confused, but she still follows me.

"My brother died about a year ago. Give or take. He was my absolute best friend, my ally. He and I could practically read each other's thoughts. So, when he died... I just felt like I had no meaning. My own twin, my other _half_, died in my arms. I still have the shirt that was soaked in his blood."

"...Oh."

I nod. "So, after that, I just went into a downward spiral. I wasn't fighting as well, I couldn't remember things, I wouldn't even wake up. I had even lost some of the extent of my powers. I mean, for god's sake, I was severely depressed, and I wasn't getting any help. You can imagine how well that could have possibly ended."

I sigh, and look up into the too-bright, too-blue sky.

"One night, a month before my seventeenth birthday, I ran outside, and just walked around. Waiting for someone, anyone, anything, to kill me. Maybe a coyote. Maybe a Drugged. Maybe a Drac. I just found a space in the middle of a field, lied down, and waited for death to come."

"...What happened?"

I shrug. "What happened? Death never came. I fell asleep in the middle of a field. Angel found me, and I went back to the warehouse."

"...That's why no one trusts you." She looks at me, as if her woody brown eyes are trying to drill into my soul. "You tried committing suicide."

I nod. "No other reason for it."  
"...That's really heartbreaking, Siren, Goddamn."

I shrug. "I suppose. To me, it still makes a great deal of sense."

* * *

Christa leans a little closer to the threshold of the door, bending herself over the tray of coffee.

"...I want immediate response, Korse. Even a low-life like you knows the importance of that stupid kid. She's Better Living Property! We're already getting reports from implanted cameras that the kid's made it past Zone 4."

"And how do you know where she is?"

"We saw her get picked up there. A couple of stupid girls picked her up. They had a car, covered in their stupid Killjoy _pictograms_."

Christa rolls her eyes. Graffiti, idiot.

"And you weren't able to track the car?"

"The car hasn't been cataloged yet. Otherwise, we could have activated other cameras to track it to see where it was going."

"...Did you get pictures from the car, or..."

The CEO hands something over to the Exterminator. A manila file. He opens it, sweeps his eyes over the contents. His eyes dart to the door, and Christa ducks back behind it, heart kicking against her chest. Jeez.

"The driver is a girl, perhaps sixteen or seventeen," Korse introduces, and when Christa leans over the door again, he's pointing to someone on the picture. "We're guessing that her height is between five foot five and seven. we know that, naturally, she has dark hair. We know that she's not originally from here, and we have footage that would track this girl back to traveling in a bright green van from Droughthaven. We're trying to communicate with the three Exterminators based out of there to see if we can track her."

"And the others?"

"This girl, next to her, is a Freak that we identified as being called Gunshot Melody. She's about fourteen, and she stands at five two. Very dangerous. We found her in Zone 12. We decided not to detain her, but we did take a blood sample from her to see if we can match her with anyone in the city."

"And, tell me, Korse."

"...Yes, sir?"

"Why, if you know that the girl is a Freak, why you didn't detain her _immediately._"

"-Sir-"

"Don't _sir_ me, Korse." Christa can sense the dirty, sadistic smirk on the CEO's face. "You're starting to become too lax with your job. And just so you know, I can Demote you. Would you like that? Having a chip put in you? Becoming the very things you once controlled? Maybe be one of _Daed's_ servants?"

"...No, sir-"

"Good." The CEO sits back, relaxed, in his seat. "Now, Korse, when this was taken, was our subject in the car?"

"Maybe, maybe not. We don't know. But we are theorizing that she went in the general direction of the one mile range of Missile Kid."

"Missile Kid?"

"She's a ten year old rebel that is treated like a daughter of sorts by the gang known as the Fabulous Killjoys. If you don't know who they-"

"I know who the Fabulous Killjoys are, Korse. Now go do your job."

"Oh. Uh..." The papers are shuffled, gathered. "Yes, sir. Goodbye, sir."

"Goodbye, Korse."

Christa leans back against the wall once more, with the tray of coffee balanced in her hands. As the tall Exterminator passes her, she averts her eyes.

"Your afternoon coffee, sir."

The CEO doesn't move his eyes from the paper he's reading. "Yes, Christa, set it over here, please."

She lets the tray settle on the large table, and backs out of the room, straightening her black pencil skirt, the ruffles on the front of her white shirt-

"What do you know?"

She jumps.

Exterminator Korse relieves his back from leaning against the wall. "I saw you leaning from the door. You can hide from the CEO very well, though, I'll hand that to you."

"...Thank you?"

He nods. "Walk with me."

She bites her lip timidly, but strides next to the Exterminator.

"Did you ever know a man named Ray Toro?"

Oh, shit.

Her throat closes up. She clears it, and forces the fear down, as she lies, "I met him a few times. He was a friend of a friend."

She looks up, to find Korse smiling at her. "Okay. But if you were curious-"

He leans his lips next to her ear.

"He is alive."

* * *

"...So, where are you kids from?"

The Paintball Sensei looks up from reloading her ray gun with a new battery. "What?"

The woman - Heavenly Hemlock? Something like that - sits next to her. "You don't act like you're from around here."

"We're from..." Sensei shrugs. "We're from Droughthaven."

"Denver?"

She nods. "Yeah. Good ol' weed town. Once upon a time."

The woman chuckles. "I remember that. Colorado was the laughingstock of the entire nation when they fucking legalized pot." She turns to look at the girl better. "What do you miss the most about it? Denver, I mean. Or what's left of it."

She shrugs. "I dunno. The mountains? The air. There was something about the air. And the altitude. The air just felt... Lighter." She looks at her fingernails. "The peace of it. A friend of mine... She lost her brother. And then I had a kid, and shit got dangerous, y'know?"

"You had a kid?" Hemlock makes an intrigued sound. "You're only, like, eighteen."

"Didn't stop me." She chuckles. "I was a dumbass. But I was stupid, and seventeen, and in love."

"And the father is?"

Sensei points her chin to Neon, who's currently trying to entertain the four kids that are sitting next to their makeshift campfire.

"...Well, at least he isn't a jackass. He seems great."

"He is." Sensei smiles. "Great guy, great boyfriend, great dad. Even if he is half a week older than me, only."

There's a tense pause.

"...I lost my daughter six years ago."

"I'm so sorry."

"No, it's fine." Hemlock's sigh is heavy. "She was taken by BL/ind, the bastards. I mean, I hope for the best, y'know? That she's still alive. But... You never know."

"...I'm sure she's alive."

Hemlock turns to her, and her dark eyes are glittering with tears, her face is tainted with a wet smile.

"...Thank you, Sensei."

The campfire flickers white and hopeful.


End file.
